Vidmark put his arm around my shoulder. I could smell the faint odor of booze on his breath. He gestured to the men playing music who also left the room and I saw a white residue on the tips of his fingers and the piping of his nostrils. I’d seen enough narcotics dealers and users to spot what I reckoned was Black Sunshine dust. Black Sunshine had been around for years and was part of drug epidemic decades earlier, but after the scuds came, a new, more highly addictive form hit the streets. The new drug allegedly contained alien “spirit molecules,” substances that created a profound, quasi-psychedlic high in the people that used it. I’d never used Sunshine and had no plans to in the future, but apparently Vidmark had partaken.
As if sensing my unease, Vidmark brushed the residue away and conjured up a huge smile. “Edwin Louis Cole once said ‘confidentiality is a virtue of the loyal, as loyalty is the virtue of faithfulness.’ I say that only because everything that happens within the program must remain, for the most part, confidential. Do you understand that?”
I nodded even as I began to worry that he might have spotted me and Dexter talking out on the balcony. Vidmark stood and moved to one of the windows and I followed until we were both looking down over the city which was stil mostly shrouded in darkness. Vidmark tapped Dexter’s silver laser pointer on the window. “Huxley once said that this planet must be another world’s hell.”
My eyes found Vidmark. Jeez, the guy loved quoting other people (most of whom I didn’t know). “The guy from that old TV show, ‘The Cosby Show,’ said that?” I replied.
Vidmark just stared at me for several seconds, his face a blank slate. “Not Cliff Huxtable,” he finally said. “Aldous Huxley. The author of the famous novel ‘Brave New World.’”
“Oh, that Huxley,” I replied, even though I had no idea who it was.
“One of the themes of the book is the need for stability and how stability only comes once you realize the true nature of your friends and enemies.” Vidmark turned from the window and he had this way of looking at you that made you believe everything he was saying. “I’m going to say something that might shock you, Danny. Those things out there, the aliens, the scuds, whatever you want to call them. They’re not our mortal enemies.”
“I’m pretty sure forty-percent of the population would disagree with you, sir,” I replied.
His jaw tensed. “There’s no doubt that they inflicted terrible losses on our world, but at the end of the day, they’re merely our competition.”
“For what, sir?”
“Resources and real estate.”
I scrunched my nose and Vidmark steepled his fingers under his chin. “I’m thinking that you disagree with that statement,” he said.
“I guess maybe I don’t understand. You say ‘competition’ which makes it sound like we’re … just competing for a business or something.”
Vidmark cocked his head and chewed on his lips. “Aren’t we delivering goods and services in a sense? Don’t we have schedules and routines? Aren’t we selling a product?”
“What? Hope?”
He nodded, his eyes alive. “If hope is our product than that makes what we’re doing here, rebuilding the country, the greatest startup that has ever been.”
“I guess I never thought of it that way,” I mumbled.
I ran a hand through my hair and Vidmark pointed to the window again. “And do you know what that makes those people out there? All the people that live and breathe in this city, and in the ones that will soon be rebuilt?”
I shook my head and he smiled from ear-to-ear. “Citizens … voters … and in a sense … customers. And what do customers care about? Solving problems. They want to see proof that the ideas underpinning one’s pitch, the grand plan, work. What you and the others did in the desert today is important because it proves some of what I’ve been telling the others for months. That if enough resources are given to me, to The Icarus Project, we can make certain that no outside forces ever invade or threaten our planet again.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you, sir.”
Vidmark nodded. “We’re building a solid foundation with you and the other operators, but I need a new way to scale and sell the idea to the people that matter, the people who are being placed in positions of authority. The ones who control the power of the purse.”
“You mean … the people that control the money?”
Vidmark nodded. “We need more funds to rearm.”
“What about rebuilding?” I asked. “The country’s wrecked, the people need food, and places to live and power—”
“Why can’t we have both?” Vidmark asked. “Why can’t we simultaneously rearm and rebuild?”
“Sure, yeah, I guess that makes sense…”
“Of course it does, but first we need the backing of the people that matter. We have to sell ourselves and what we’re doing, and what matters most when selling is often the delivery.”
“What can I do to help?”
Vidmark grinned. “You have what used to be called ‘street cred.’ You’ve joined the team and shown what our program can accomplish with only minimal training. You’re a breakout star, with the perfect backstory, and the videos with you and the others have been uploaded hundreds of thousands of times in just a few days. I want you to help me craft the pitch. I need you to spread the word, to be one of the new brand ambassadors for what we’re doing here.”
Vidmark then placed a hand on my shoulder again just like my old man did on the occasion or two that he tried to impart some words of wisdom. “There are some people who go down to the altar of life with one heavy bag and they leave it and then there are others who go down and come back with two. You’re the former, Danny, and that’s one of the reasons why I selected you. I knew you had the capacity for greatness that moment I saw you. You just needed someone to help bring it out.”
What the hell do you say to someone who’s just laid that on you? I mean, just a few months earlier, I’d literally been sleeping some nights in a sewer tunnel and barely knew where my next meal was coming from. And then presto! Vidmark saves me from the scrap heap and there I am, dressed in a tux and hanging out with a former billionaire in what was probably the swankiest hotel in the country. And so what did I do? Did I bring up any of the things I’d been thinking about or even the issues raised by Dexter out on the balcony or the fact that Vidmark might be snorting Black Sunshine? Nope, and it was mostly because nobody, not even my parents frankly, had ever really believed in me the way Vidmark seemed to. Maybe it was all bullshit, but at that moment Vidmark made me feel like the most important person in the world and that’s a damned intoxicating thing. So I overlooked some of my concerns and misgivings and did the only thing I could do at the time. I smiled and nodded and thanked Vidmark profusely for everything he’d done for me. We shook hands and I moved to exit the room, and then I remembered my talk with Dexter. I glanced back at Vidmark.
“Can I ask a favor, sir?”
“Anything,” Vidmark replied.
“I’d like to inspect my mech tomorrow if that’s possible.”
“Of course.”
“I’ll need a ride and some way to get through security…”
Vidmark flashed a smile. “You’re seated at the head of the table, Danny. Just ask Ms. Beckman. She’ll arrange transportation and access to whatever you need.”
Turning to leave, Vidmark called out: “Oh, and Danny?”
I stopped and glanced back at him. “One favor from you. At some point, you’re going to need to come in for a check up.”
“Check up?”
Vidmark nodded. “It’s your back … your spine.”
“It’s feels much better now, sir. Almost brand new.”
“And it will continue to feel that way for several more months.”
My face fell. “And then?”
“Didn’t I mention that the fix wasn’t permanent?”
“No, sir.”
“My apologies, but at some juncture you’ll need to com
e back in.”
I nodded and he smiled. “You see, we both have something the other one wants, don’t we?” Vidmark added.
“Yes, sir,” I said, a queasy feeling coming over me as I exited the room.
* * *
My mood blackened after hearing from Vidmark that my spinal work was only temporary. Even though he’d acted like all was well, it sounded like I might need a permanent fix in place within the next few months. I didn’t like the sound of it, but what the hell could I do? For a moment, strange thoughts mingled with bad memories and I had the notion to just … walk away. To trot down the stairs and exit the hotel and dash into the darkness. But I’d been running for so much of my recent life that I realized that wasn’t much of an option. Besides, I couldn’t bolt on Jezzy and the other opereators and my gut told me I needed Vidmark more than he needed me now (especially if I was going to have issues with my spine in the future).
I wandered back to the ballroom where I found the others, drinking, eating, and dancing the night away. Even though most of the operators were still a little banged up from the desert operation, they seemed to be having a good time. Jezzy in particular, was partying like a rock star, casting aside her heels to swing her hips with Billy before I cut in and twirled her around. I wanted to tell her about my talks with Dexter and Vidmark, but I didn’t think the moment was right and she was having such a good time, that I didn’t want to bring her down. There’d be plenty of time later to fill her in on everything and see what she thought. Her judgment was usually far better than mine, and I was counting on her to let me know what she thought about everything that was going on.
“That’s a crime,” Jezzy whispered into my ear. I looked up and she gestured to the hotel’s staff who were carrying away huge portions of uneaten food, destined for some dumpster. “There are people outside this building that haven’t had a meal like that in literally years.”
“So let’s do something about it,” I said.
And so it came to pass that on that night, Christmas Eve, long after everyone else had gone to bed, me and the other operators, after having defeated a small army of aliens, found ourselves carrying all the remaining food (and booze) out through a rear door of the hotel to set up a small station across the road. There we provided the food to the twenty or thirty refugees who were still huddled in huts and lean-tos. We’d been given so much that it was the least we could do. The word got out and more people showed up and somebody built a fire in an old ammunition drum and there we were, warming our hands over the flames, half drunk, singing Christmas songs. I looked back at the hotel and could swear that I saw Vidmark, on a balcony looking down at us.
* * *
Eventually, I moved back across the street and just stood and watched everyone from the shadows, laughing, drinking, celebrating Christmas for the first time in years.
“You did a good thing, Danny Deus,” a woman said.
Something stirred off to my right and I spotted Baila smiling at me. She was standing beyond the spillage of light from one of the few functioning street lamps, near an alley that snaked behind the hotel.
“Not everyone would have done that,” she added, angling her chin in the direction of the refugees.
“What’s that old saying? To those who are given much, much is expected,” I replied.
She moved toward me, her eyes sparkling under the moonlight. Shivering, she clutched herself and looked into my eyes. She was close enough that I could feel the warmth from her body, her breath visible in the night air. My eyes darted to see if anyone was watching us, but we were obscured from the others by a wall of shadows.
“Are you feeling better now?” she asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because you were hurt before, silly,” she said, placing a hand on the area where I’d been shot. She rubbed the spot and blood began rushing to my cheeks and another area of my body.
“Sometimes I think it’s an advantage to be wounded,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“Scar tissue’s stronger than the original flesh.”
“I guess that makes me like a super hero now.”
“You’re as brave as one.”
“I guess now is not the time to admit I was a little scared today,” I said.
“Fear is seriously underrated. It helps … sharpen the senses,” she purred,
flashing a smile that could light up the darkened city. Her fingers slowly traced the contours of my upper chest and all I could think about was that Baila (if I may paraphrase a line from an old song), was the right kind of sinner to release my inner fantasy.
“You know why I love Christmas?” she asked.
“Music … good,” I heard myself blabber, unable to exercise control over my mouth muscles as her index finger did a slow circle around one of my nipples. “Music … very good … because … Dean Martin more better…”
What the hell was I saying?!
In spite of my stupidity and inability to form full sentences, she grinned. “The music’s part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
“Mistletoe.”
She held up a little twig with a few green leaves and before I knew what was happening, her lips were on mine. I pulled back, probably because she was the first woman I’d kissed in a very long time, and she pushed in with a desperate mouth. I hesitated and then my hand, which seemed to have a mind of its own, reached for every inch of her and there was an electricity for an instant and then … nothing. She was everything I’d hoped she’d be and then, for reasons I couldn’t put into words, whatever fleeting spark had been there was gone. I could tell the feeling wasn’t mutual by the way she continued to lock lips with me. I pulled back.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The others are gonna see us,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry about Simeon,” she snorted. “He’s a big boy.”
“He’s not the one I’m worried about.”
There was a burst of laughter and a few shouts across the street and Baila reacted by dipping back into the shadows by the alley, disappearing from sight. I wheeled around and was grateful to see that the other operators hadn’t seen us. And then I heard what sounded like a sharp inhale of breath. The kind of sound a woman makes, for instance, when she gasps.
I turned and saw her.
Saw Jezzy staring at me … at us.
Shit.
I’d thought she was with the others, but apparently I was wrong. She too was standing in the shadows down the street from the entrance to the hotel which is why I probably hadn’t noticed her before. Arms crossed over her chest, she was glaring at me and I could tell she’d seen everything.
* * *
I tore across the street, running faster than I remembered being able to run, but Jezzy was already inside the hotel by the time I reached the front of the hotel. Bursting through the main doors, I caught the tail-end of her dress as she headed up the staircase that led to the upper floors. She reacted to my footfalls by turning and holding up a hand. I slid to a stop and fought to catch my breath. I couldn’t tell whether it was because of the cold temps or the booze or what she’d seen, but her eyes were misty and red-rimmed. She looked hurt, wounded.
“Look, Jezzy—”
“Don’t, Danny,” she said, shaking her head, her voice hardening. “Just … don’t.”
“I’m sorry, okay. I feel really shitty.”
“For what?”
I pointed back. “Well, I think you saw something out there and it’s not exactly what you think you saw so I don’t think you saw—”
“Please stop saying ‘think you saw.’”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Because I know what I saw, and it’s not anything you have to apologize for. We’re all adults aren’t we? I mean, at least one of us is. Besides, I was the one who said it before, wasn’t I? That we were just … what was it? Business partners?”
“But that’s not true, Jezz.”
“No,
it is, Danny. And I’m totally cool with that. I really am.”
She forced a smile and headed up toward our sleeping quarters as I watched her go. I slumped to the ground, wondering what the hell had transpired over the prior few minutes. I’d gone from having kicked the crap out of the scuds and being toasted by hundreds of VIPs, to being caught up in some kind of half-assed love triangle with Jezzy and Baila, not to mention the potential issues with Dexter and Vidmark and the flight recorder from the alien glider! I had a headache just thinking about everything and so I picked myself up and trudged off toward our sleeping quarters realizing Richter was right.
All glory is fleeting.
22
Things were definitely a tad on the awkward side the next morning. I’d expected Jezzy to be cool towards me, but was surprised to find that Baila was, as well. In fact, she acted like nothing had happened the night before, which I chalked up to the booze I’d tasted on her lips. Every time I tried to talk to her Simeon showed up, so I just decided to play it cool. I stood at the back of the room watching the others get ready and sighed. There I was, Danny Deus, operator of mechs, and destroyer of aliens who was totally unable to figure out how to approach the two ladies in my life.
Thankfully, there was work to do. We attended a short briefing orchestrated by Ms. Beckman, Jennings, Dexter, and three analysts from The Hermitage. We discussed intelligence reports on a number of low-level alien attacks on fuel depots and the like up and down the East Coast, but there was nothing on Alpha Timbo and no reports on what information, if any, had been obtained from Carpe Kenyatta.
All of us were given newly-created security cards, unique to the mech operations team, and then requested to head back to the subterranean space under the streets of old D.C., The Tomb, to inspect our mechs and take part in some simulated training exercises.
World of Hurt Page 15
