Project Columbus: Omnibus

by J. C. Rainier

  Smooth talker, Jerk noted. You’re already forgiven.

  Told you she wasn’t mad.

  Oh, I know her better than you think.

  Cal smirked. Well she doesn’t know you at all. Doesn’t that make you a stalker? Yeah, I think so. So you just made your creepy level go off the chart.

  Irritating Jerk was a minor victory for Cal. Though the shared bond with his specter would inevitably transfer a sliver of the pain and resentment, the satisfaction he felt was well worth the cost. Cal enjoyed several minutes of silence, staring into the fading fire before adding a log and stoking the flames. He was beginning to wonder where Alexis was when he heard the unmistakable squeaks of the fourth and fifth stairs.

  She returned with an enameled steel cup in each hand. She offered one to Cal before returning to his side. The steaming liquid that filled the cup nearly to its rim smelled of spice and alcohol. He took in a deep breath, savoring the vapors and building anticipation for the first taste. He nearly scorched his tongue in his eagerness to try the concoction, but he could distinctly taste cinnamon and Demeter pear. He had never tasted such anything so smooth, yet flavorful, and he found it difficult to remember the last time he had alcohol.

  Three days after your wedding, numbnuts.

  Thanks, Jerk.

  I’m always here for you.

  I was afraid you’d say that.

  “Do you like it?” Alexis asked, trying to contain her enthusiasm.

  “It’s amazing! What is it?”

  “A little something special,” she grinned, holding her cup out for a toast. “Merry Christmas.”

  He tapped his cup against hers, and they both drew a short sip. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Frank owed me a few favors,” she explained. “So I cashed them in. This is from the first bottling. There’s a guy on the south side of the river who went a little overboard with collecting wild pears this summer. He couldn’t give them to the canning crews fast enough before they started to go south, so he made cider out of the rest. Just a limited run. Frank got his hands on a case. I’d hate to think of how much the guy owed to give up something so rare.”

  “Wait, I heard about that brewer guy. What’s his name again, Mitchell?”

  She shook her head. “No. Mitchell is only doing beer. This guy just did it as a side project. His name starts with a D. Dante, Dameon, something like that.”

  Dingus, Jerk tossed out at random.

  Shut up.

  “Well, it’s really good. I mean, that little kick of cinnamon makes it taste like…” Cal’s voice trailed off as he tried to find the right word.

  “Home. Christmas. That’s what I was hoping for when I traded for the cinnamon.”

  “So you’re going to go into debt with the whole town to make an ass-kicking drink,” he joked. “Do you think Frank takes souls in trade? Because I’m going to want another.”

  She chuckled, then told him the story of how she came across the items and was able to negotiate for them. He was mildly shocked to find out that she had bid some of Cal’s biodiesel as the bulk of the payment. He inquired about what Devereaux would want with the fuel, and she spun off into a story about how Devereaux and the other merchants in the square had collectively purchased a small diesel generator from the colony’s supplies just before the start of winter. She relayed Devereaux’s plan to keep business running uninterrupted for the bulk of the year, and to have an emergency power supply in the winter should nature turn against the fragile power infrastructure. By the time the tale had finished, Cal was draining the last few drops of his beverage. His head was swimming slightly, and his limbs tingled with warmth. He yawned and stretched contently.

  “Didn’t mean to keep the old man up too late,” Alexis joked, knowing that she was seven months older than him.

  “Really,” he chortled. “You feed me that wonderful dinner and try to get me drunk, then you expect me to stay awake? I’m only a man.”

  Cal set their cups on the dresser as she settled under the thick reaper bear blanket. He turned the blazing log, exposing a small, hot pile of embers, then added one last chunk of wood. He retreated under the covers with his wife before the log caught and the fire flared up cheerfully. She stroked his cheek as he looked into her emerald eyes, a place he frequently got lost.

  Should I close my eyes now? Jerk mocked.

  I’d prefer it, pervert.

  You know you’re talking about yourself, right?

  Cal sighed. He began to wonder if selling his soul for another drink would be wise, or if he should sell it to Dr. Taylor for more medicine. Having his alter ego hanging around during intimate times was not in any part of his plans, but he had to deal with it.

  “Do you think we’ve finally made it?” she asked softly.

  “Hmm?” Cal wasn’t sure what she meant.

  “The town. The colony. Do you think we’ve made it yet?”

  He shrugged. “We’ve had a rough ride so far. I think we’re all finally working in the right direction. Together, this time. I guess as long as the planet doesn’t throw us any more curve balls, we’ll be fine.”

  “What about us? Do you think we’ve made our way here in the colony?”

  Dude, Jerk perked up instantly. Red alert.

  Shut it.

  Fine, ignore me. I won’t help you out any more.

  Like you’ve ever helped, Cal muttered mentally.

  “I think we’ve weathered a lot, but we’re still here. Nothing’s going to shake us, right?”

  Cal could feel Jerk’s amusement, though he pushed it aside.

  Her lips turned up in a shy, heart-melting smile. “I’m just glad you’re back and settled in.” She bit her lower lip and gave him a hopeful look. “You are settled in, right? No more running off?”

  “Believe me, I’m done with running everyone else’s errands.”

  Yeah, she’s heard that before.

  Shut. Up.

  Fine. Fine. I’ll go away.

  I’ve heard that before.

  “And you’re finally at peace? You know, with your work situation?”

  Cal smiled and brushed an errant lock of hair into place behind her ear. “More than happy with it. I’m hoping to expand next year. More than just diesel and soaps.”

  “Oh?” her eyes lit up.

  “I’ve been tossing around a few ideas. I don’t want to get into it too deeply until I know whether or not it will pan out. I should know more this spring.”

  “Well, that’s good.” She wore a smile, but something in her eyes said that she was hiding something from him.

  “What about you? Are you settled in?”

  “Yeah.” He could tell by the way she glanced away that she wasn’t being honest.

  Cal cupped her hands, which were trembling. “C’mon. What is it?”

  “I want more,” she admitted. “I want what Cora and Jake have. What Jaime and Beth have.” She must have read the confusion in his expression. She took a deep breath. “I want a baby. A family.”

  Cal’s jaw dropped open, but not even the hiss of air came out. His fingers went numb in seconds, and he felt a great weight pressing on his chest. In an instant, he regretted every moment he had hidden his sickness from her. Every time that he had an impulse to confess the presence of Jerk but silenced himself for fear of how she’d react now came back to him, hammering him repeatedly with the realization that once again he had failed her by not admitting the truth. He steeled himself for the taunting that Jerk was sure to give him. But it never came.

  What the hell just happened? Jerk asked, his own confusion piling on top of Cal’s emotions. There was a brief, though very awkward pause. Oh for the love of God, if you’ve never listened to me once, listen to me now. TALK. TO. HER.

  “I ah…” he stumbled.

  Oh shit, Jerk added, though oddly it was out of sincere concern, not mockery.

  Alexis tore her hands away. Her lips quivered, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “Guess I have my answer
.”

  “No, wait!”

  “It’s cool,” she said as she rolled over, turning her back to him. “We can talk about this after you settle in with your expansion.”

  Oh, this hurts my head so much.

  Shut up.

  Gladly. I don’t think I can stomach this.

  “Wait, where’s this coming from?” he asked. She answered him by rolling the blanket tighter around her shoulder. “No, serious, Lexi. This is all news to me, and so sudden.”

  Alexis propped herself on one elbow, facing him once more. Tears were flowing from both eyes, and her eyes burned like green flames under water. “Why is it that your wife is always a second or third thought to you? Why is it that anything I say or want is so sudden? Was it too sudden when I told you on our wedding night that I wanted a child?”

  “I thought that was the whiskey talking…”

  She slapped him in the face before he could finish the sentence. “You never think. You never ask me. You just go off and do things. Things that you want, or worse yet, things that other people want from you. But never what I want from you.”

  Cal rubbed his cheek, which still stung from the blow. “Then why didn’t you bring it up again?”

  “Because I was too humiliated. Then last winter came around. I wanted to ask again, but we both got so sick. You were there for me. You cared for me. I knew how much you loved me, but I couldn’t ask then, not when you almost died. Then the spring came, and we both got busy with work.” Alexis let out an enraged growl. “God, I don’t even like what I do anymore. All I want to do is stay home with you, help you run your business, and have a family. You get what you want, but I guess I don’t.”

  “Look, Lexi,” he reached out for her. She slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t say yes. Don’t do it because you feel sorry for me or because you’re guilty. I don’t want that. Just… just don’t. Don’t touch me, don’t look at me. God, I hate you!”

  He felt a stabbing pain deep in his heart. She was hurt, and lashing out in any way she could. Cal refused to believe that she hated him, though the anguish she was in was what really tore at him.

  “I hate myself too. I did this to you.”

  “Oh, don’t play that card,” she groaned, her voice shaky.

  Cal could feel his throat knot up, threatening to crush his voice. “It’s not a card. It’s the truth, and it’s because I’ve been hiding something from you since… well, since before we got to the planet. Since I put you back in stasis after waking you up.”

  Alexis’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh no. God no, have you been cheating on me?”

  “What?” he gasped. “No! No, it’s just…”

  “Tell me, Cal. Tell me the truth, or so help me I will throw you down the stairs.”

  “I’ve got serious mental problems,” he blurted, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible.

  “No shit. But you still have to tell me.”

  “I did,” he shot back, trying not to give in to the frustration welling up inside. “Just let me explain.” She looked back at him, nostrils flaring, staring daggers, but silent. “There’s a rare condition that develops in some people when they’re in biostasis for a long time called Hibernation Psychosis. Doctor Taylor told me that it can show up as any number of mental problems. In my case, I have a rather obnoxious voice in my head.”

  Hey, I heard that, Jerk protested.

  Alexis wiped her eyes. Her expression went flat, making it hard to gauge her reaction. “That’s it? All this is over a voice in your head?”

  “If it was just a once or twice thing, no. But sometimes I see him. He’s me, only not. And he draws me into conversations.”

  “So, schizophrenia then?”

  Cal shook his head. “Not quite that bad. Though some days it feels like it. No, he mostly hangs around to bully me and piss me off.”

  Meh, you needed that. Without me pushing you, you’d still be trying to figure out what to do. Or you’d be a bear’s lunch. One or the other.

  “And you couldn’t tell me this for two years because?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you off. I couldn’t lose you.”

  “Or you’re just making this shit up to get off the hook. If that’s the case, you’ve already lost me. I’ll go see Darius about a divorce.”

  The thought of divorce was like someone hammering Cal in the gut over and over. Though he was telling the truth, he couldn’t bear the thought of Alexis leaving him anyway.

  “You want proof? You’ll get it tomorrow, when we see Doc. She can tell you everything.”

  Alexis snorted, “Yeah, that’ll make great dinner conversation. Hey, Doc! How’s the new grandkid? Oh yeah, and is my husband nuts? Please, tell all our friends who are gathered here for a nice meal just how cuckoo he is.”

  “If that’s what it takes to prove it to you, then let the whole world know,” he replied without hesitation. “But then will you believe it’s the truth?”

  “A truth you couldn’t trust me with. The one person you should never be afraid to confide in. Do you know how much that hurts me?”

  “I do.”

  “No, Cal, you don’t.” She heaved over on her side, once again turning her back on him.

  He sighed and ran his hand through his shaggy blond hair. “You’re right. I have no idea how much I’ve hurt you since we met. I guess it’s too late to fix my mistakes. All I can do is promise to be better. Can we at least talk this through in a couple days? Let our heads clear?”

  “Fine,” she mumbled coldly. “Good night.”

  He settled in to bed, though she balled up tightly in the blanket when he tried to touch her. Cal was left alone with his thoughts for hours. Just as the last of the fire’s dim glow faded into darkness, Jerk returned with one final thought for the night.

  Merry Christmas, numbnuts.

  * * *

  Hunter Ceretti

  28 December, 2 yal, 8:41

  Hunter tugged at the loose gloves on his hands, adjusting them so his fingers didn’t bind when they flexed. The thin coating of slush on Benedict Boulevard squished under his boots as he hurried along. Giant flakes of snow drifted lazily down, adding to the wet, gray ooze that coated the city streets, and melting only moments after landing on his long, heavy wool coat.

  He reached the door of the butcher’s shop, the rapping of his knuckles muted by the leather gloves. Hunter waited for a minute, but his call was unanswered. He pounded again, this time with the palm of his hand. After a few seconds, Devereaux answered the door, draped from shoulders to toes in a fur blanket. Thin cotton socks peeked out from under it; Hunter figured that the man’s feet were probably freezing, so he asked if he could come inside. Devereaux nodded.

  They climbed the stairs to the sparsely decorated apartment above. Devereaux returned to his seat in front of the fire, offering one to Hunter. He politely declined, opting instead to shed his gloves and warm his hands at the hearth.

  “This is an unexpected visit,” Devereaux said, running his hand through his unwashed hair in a vain bid to make himself presentable.

  “It is, and I’m sorry for that. I need a True Favor.”

  Devereaux nodded. “Straight to the point, I see.”

  Hunter had never shied away from asking for help, nor would he reject a friend in need. His trip to see the butcher fulfilled both ends of the spectrum. He knew he would be asking a lot. While the merchants traded in goods and favors—which had quickly morphed into a form of currency in Concordia—a True Favor was something special. It had no monetary value. True Favors could not be transferred from one merchant to another. They were a pact between the party that needed help and the person giving the help, who would then hold all the power. Hunter was hoping that Devereaux wouldn’t issue a voucher against him, but it was a sacrifice that he was willing to make for his friend.

  “Do you still have any more of that cider left?” Hunter asked.

  Again the butcher nodded, this time very slowly.
“One bottle. I was planning on saving it for New Year’s.”

  Damn. That’s going to cost me.

  “Might I have it, please?”

  “Anything’s possible, Mr. Ceretti. I’d like to know why you need it so badly that you’re asking me for a True.”

  “Well, first of all, because I don’t think I could pay you enough favors to sell it to me.”

  “Obviously,” Devereaux noted.

  “And because it might just heal a wound. One that really needs healing, that I don’t think I could bear to watch fester anymore.”

  “Alcohol doesn’t heal wounds, son. Trust me on this one.”

  Hunter waved his right hand dismissively. “It’s not the alcohol. It’s the symbolism. It’s the fact that it’s Dante’s cider. And it’s this,” he said, pulling a slim stick of cinnamon out of his pocket, grasping it between his index and middle fingers.

  Devereaux’s eyes widened slightly, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “It breaks my heart too, Mr. Ceretti.”

  Hunter returned the spice to his pocket and turned to face the butcher. “Then you know?”

  “I can’t avoid knowing things about people. Not in my line of work. I heard that the whole thing was a mess, and that they made a huge scene. Scared Doctor Taylor’s grandkids. I’m sorry that your Christmas dinner was ruined.”

  “Thank you, sir, but the dinner’s not important. I just want to save their marriage.”

  Devereaux’s chair creaked as he lifted himself out of it. His feet made soft scraping noises as he shuffled to the window, pulling aside the small curtain and looking through the slats. “Do you think it can be saved at this point?”

  “Not without a gesture,” Hunter sighed, his friend’s predicament weighing heavily on his heart. “That’s Cal’s only hope. I mean, he’s good with them, but he’s working with nothing right now. She’s already threatened to move back onto the ship.”

  “I know she would, too. I don’t know, maybe it’s the pissy old Marine in me, but I would have already if I were her.” Devereaux turned around, leaning his back against the wall. His arms were folded across his chest, somewhere underneath the blanket. “If this was back on Earth I’d probably say that he’s getting what he deserves, she could do much better, all the usual shit we used to tell each other to make us feel better about our decisions. Out here everything’s different. Call me crazy, but I think that the idea of them losing each other would be like a little piece of Concordia dying.”