by Gary Gibson
I was lying on the floor in a windowless room, most probably a basement. Buckets and mops stood in one corner next to stacks of dusty office supplies. A water bowl sat on the floor, along with a folded blanket on which Lucky must have slept. An unlit furnace stood in another corner, along with a portable battery-powered generator that hummed quietly to itself. A cord emerged from a tangle of wires at the rear of the generator, reaching up to a single caged light bulb suspended from a ceiling hook. Wooden steps led up the side of the far wall to a door, while just beneath the steps stood a portable video camera mounted on a tripod, its lens pointing towards me.
I was far from surprised to see that most of the basement floor was taken up by a circle of field-pillars. The usual laptop sat next to the portable transfer stage, its screensaver morphing into abstract shapes.
But none of this drew my attention as much as the steel cage placed in the precise centre of the stage. The cage was just large enough to contain the crumpled form of a man, curled up in a foetal position and nearly invisible beneath the hordes of bees that otherwise filled the cage. Their angry, muted buzzing seemed to fill the room. It wasn’t until I looked closer and saw the glass lining the inside of the cage that I understood why the bees couldn’t escape. As for the figure within, it looked as if it might be a member of a night patrol – one of the creatures that had killed Nadia.
Casey appeared from somewhere behind me and stepped towards the cage, a rifle held loosely in one hand. He carefully tapped at the bars of the cage with the rifle’s barrel, and the creature within jerked in response. Its head lifted in the exact same manner as a disturbed sleeper.
I just barely caught a glimpse of dead eyes and an open mouth through the maelstrom of swarming insects. Horror gripped me as yet more bees came surging out of the depths of the creature’s throat. I turned away from the sight, feeling sick to my stomach.
Casey stepped back over to stand before me. ‘You,’ he said, ‘are a massive fucking pain in the arse.’
‘Go to hell,’ I managed to rasp.
Casey just chuckled, and raised his free hand. ‘How many fingers am I holding up?’
‘What?’
‘I want to know if you’re concussed or not.’
‘Why don’t you go fuck yourse—’
He stepped forward, kicking me hard enough in the gut to drive the wind out of me. I scrabbled back against the wall as best I could.
‘How. Many. Fingers?’
I lifted my cuffed hands with the middle finger of each raised.
Casey laughed. ‘Very droll. And your name?’
I opened my mouth to voice another complaint, then realized there was no point. ‘Jerry Beche,’ I said with a sigh.
‘Good.’ He turned, making his way over to the video camera beneath the steps. ‘There’s not much point to the conversation we’re going to have if you’re not in full possession of your faculties.’ I watched as he leaned down to peer through its lens at me, then made some kind of adjustment.
‘Casey . . . whatever you’re planning, and I have a pretty good idea what it is, you need to stop. Wallace told us everything.’
He looked up at me, and I saw a flash of anger. ‘Knew I should have just put a bullet through the silly fucker’s head, instead of wasting time with matches.’ He leaned back down, peering through the camera once more and made a final adjustment. ‘So what exactly did he tell you?’
‘That you’re going to try and wipe out the Authority because they lied to us about retirement.’
‘And you think that’s the only reason? You can’t think of a whole list of them yourself, even after being among us for as short a time as you have?’
‘Casey . . .’
‘I hear you, I hear you. What do you think I’m going to do: walk over there, uncuff you and beg your forgiveness? Fuck that.’ He stood back, as if satisfied. ‘Thing is, Jerry, I’m really not sure why you want me to stop.’
‘Because you’re out of your fucking mind, that’s why. You killed Nadia, you killed the other Jerry, and if Wallace isn’t dead yet from his injuries, he will be soon enough.’
‘Wow.’ He put his hands on his hips. ‘You really have figured it all out, haven’t you?’
‘There’s not much we don’t know, Casey. You were working for the Patriots and you betrayed them. Everyone else knows where we are, and whatever happens to me, they’re going to come after you even harder.’
He shook his head in apparent disbelief. ‘I sincerely doubt that. The crazy thing is, you should be thanking me. You ever think about that? If it wasn’t for me, you’d never have been rescued – did that ever cross your mind?’ he tapped at his chest. ‘If I hadn’t been forced to prevent the first Jerry from screwing everything up, you – and by you, I mean the person sitting right there, in front of me – would still be rotting away on some dead alternate. If it wasn’t for me, you’d never have had a chance at a new life with the rest of us.’
I gaped at him. ‘So basically,’ I said, ‘we’re supposed to be grateful for you murdering anyone who gets in your way?’
‘Goddammit, Jerry,’ he shouted. ‘Don’t you understand that the Authority don’t give a shit about any of us? And yet here you are, treating me like I’m the bad guy here. What the hell would you have done?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted, and glanced towards the cage. ‘One thing I’m sure of, though, is that if you go ahead with this, you’re putting all of our lives in jeopardy, yours included.’
‘How the hell do you figure that out?’
‘What’s left if you wipe out the Authority? Nothing but that island, and nowhere to go from there but a bunch of extinct alternates.’
‘But at least we’ll be free,’ Casey replied with unexpected fervour, ‘instead of being worked until we drop, or something kills us on some under-equipped mission. We’re little better than slaves, except you’re all so fucking grateful for your chains.’
‘Why are you filming all this, Casey? So you can justify yourself to the rest of them?’
His expression soured, and I knew I had guessed right. ‘Here’s another question right back at you. Why is it that the Authority are so hell-bent on getting us to recover the kind of information or weapons that could be used to destroy whole worlds? Like those damn bee-brains. Didn’t you ever wonder what possible reason they could have, even to come to this goddam alternate?’
‘Fine,’ I admitted after a moment. ‘I don’t know. I wish I did.’
‘Yeah. Ever notice there’s a lot you don’t know?’ he growled. ‘Maybe you should ask him,’ and he nodded towards the cage.
I frowned, watching as he lifted the camera from its tripod and carried it towards the cage, pressing its lens close up against the bars, aiming it at the figure within, still obscured by the thousands of bees crawling all over it.
‘C’mon, Jerry,’ Casey chided me. ‘Don’t you recognize who it is? Get a little closer. Take a look.’
I stared at him, terrified of what he might be planning to do. Moving cautiously, I pushed myself up onto my knees and shuffled a few inches closer to the cage, my bound hands before me.
Casey gave the bars of the cage a good hard kick, and I saw the figure within flinch, then sit up. Its head twisted from side to side, coming closer to the glass, and I finally got a good look at who it was.
Greenbrooke.
‘What did you . . . how . . .’ I stammered.
‘I kidnapped him, I think is the word you’re looking for,’ said Casey, stepping back over to the tripod and replacing the camera on its mount.
I remembered seeing all those Patriot agents, roaming the island, and how I had assumed they were looking only for Casey’s hidden transfer stage. Maybe, I thought, they hadn’t just been looking for the stage. Maybe they’d been trying to find Greenbrooke as well.
‘Don’t feel pity for him,’ said Casey. ‘He told me what I needed to know, and then I stuck him in there. He’ll be a walking plague vector when I send him over to
the Authority’s alternate, him and those bees.’ He cocked his head at me. ‘Don’t you want to know just what he told me?’
I stared down at my feet, too frightened to meet Casey’s eyes.
Casey shrugged when I didn’t answer, and continued regardless. ‘Turns out there was a nuclear war where the Authority came from,’ he said. ‘All the way back in their Eighties. Not some two-minute affair, either; seems it dragged on for some decades, long into the Nineties, with the US fighting Soviet detachments all over South America. Seems like democracy took a distinct step back during all this. Want to know why they call themselves “the Authority”? It’s short for “Provisional Civil Authority for the Emergency”.’
He walked across the basement, staring back in at Greenbrooke for a moment before continuing. ‘Over there, the CIA was replaced by the Patriots, the nearest thing their America ever had to the Gestapo. Then all of a sudden,’ he said, turning back to look at me and waving one hand as if it were holding a magic wand, ‘they stumble across this abandoned transfer stage, somewhere in the Bolivian jungle when they’re supposed to be hunting Cuban troops.’
I looked back up at him. ‘I know half of this already,’ I said. ‘Wallace told me, so you can shut the hell up.’
‘So did he mention the way the original stage-builders abandoned their bases, destroying all their computers and most of their records before disappearing?’ I nodded. ‘The only reason I can see why they’d have done any such thing,’ he continued, ‘is because they were afraid of something – something they encountered while they were exploring all those alternate realities themselves. At first I thought maybe that’s why the Authority wanted to find such terrible weapons – because they were afraid they might run into whatever it is that scared the stage-builders so bad.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘But the real reason, it turns out, is hardly so noble. No, the reason Greenbrooke and his Patriot cronies pushed as hard as they did for the Pathfinder project to focus on weapons acquisition was so they could beat the Soviets in their own alternate into submission.’
‘You’re certain of this?’
‘I wish I wasn’t, but I am. You see, Jerry, the Authority are what you get when you let people like Greenbrooke run things. Bleak, austere and absolutely devoid of hope or freedom.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve been to their world, just briefly. You should see it: endless black skies, people scurrying from door to door to avoid the freezing cold, streets full of empty, barren shops. From what I saw, I’m guessing there must have been a hell of a big die-off once the nukes started to fly. Fact is, they’re already dead, or will be soon, anyway. You can see it in their faces; it’s a real privilege for some of them to be assigned to our island, did you know that? Warm skies, clean air, sunshine.’
‘If the Authority’s alternate is so cold,’ I said, ‘the bees’ll just die, won’t they?’
He shook his head. ‘These aren’t your regular garden-issue insects,’ he said. ‘Remember – they were designed as a weapon. The only way you can take those things out is with a flamethrower. Cold doesn’t matter to them.’ He nodded at Greenbrooke. ‘And even if it does, they’re quite good at finding somewhere nice and warm to live, wouldn’t you say?’ He stabbed at his chest with one thumb. ‘Now listen to me. We’re the victims. The people running the Authority are the same kind of people who decimated our own alternates. Didn’t you dream of finding those people and killing them? Well, I’ve got a chance to do just that, and I’m not giving it up.’
I regarded him bleakly. ‘And what happens to the rest of us?’
Casey turned on his heel without answering me and went to kneel by the laptop controlling the transfer stage. The screensaver vanished, to be replaced by the control interface. One after the other, the status lights on the field-pillars blinked into life as they came online.
That was when I knew it was too late, and he was on his way to the Authority with Greenbrooke.
‘For Christ’s sake, Casey!’ I yelled in desperation. ‘The Authority’ll kill all the rest of us once they know what you’ve done! Don’t you understand that?’
He glanced over and gave me a sunny smile. ‘Not if you show them the recording I’m making just now. That’s your alibi, right there. It proves I’m responsible for everything, and not any of you. I’ll happily take the blame right on the goddam chin, but they’d have to catch me first.’ He smiled broadly. ‘See? I’m not such a bad guy after all.’
I opened my mouth to try once more and beg him to stop, even knowing it was useless. I’d seen madness like this before, in Herschel and Marlon, before they murdered my own world. And I was going to have to watch it happen all over again.
I wondered if I had the strength to rush him, to throw myself at him and knock him over, smash the laptop or damage one of the field-pillars, maybe. But I knew he would most likely shoot me dead first, rather than risk my further interference. But then again, maybe that was preferable to sitting by and watching another world die when I had at least some kind of chance of stopping him.
Something made me look up at the top of the basement steps and I saw Rozalia, crouched down in the open doorway. She was looking down at me, a finger raised to her mouth. She looked shockingly pale, sweat making her hair cling to her face. It must have taken an enormous effort to follow me here, as badly wounded as she was. I wondered how she had avoided getting caught by the tripwires. Or had Haden been there to help her as well?
She sank back into the shadows, and I saw her raise her rifle, aiming it straight at Casey’s head. But I could see she was struggling to hold the rifle steady. If she managed to hit him, it’d be a miracle.
I glanced back over at Casey and saw him staring at me. He stood up quickly and stared up at the steps.
He saw Rozalia, her weapon wavering in her hands. He moved fast, reaching for his rifle and bringing it to bear on her.
There wasn’t time to think.
I stumbled upright and ran towards Casey. He fired at Rozalia just as I threw both wrists around his head, pulling the chain of the cuffs taut around his throat. I heard Rozalia cry out, and I dragged Casey across the basement and towards the cage in the middle of the transfer stage. I fought a sudden dizziness, the blood thundering in my ears.
Casey must have sensed my sudden weakness, for he slammed one elbow backwards into my chest. I slumped, but it only increased the pressure on his throat. He reached up in desperation to try and wriggle free, and I again pulled as hard as I could.
I glanced quickly towards Rozalia, seeing that she had tumbled down the steps and now lay bleeding on the dusty concrete. Her rifle lay nearby. I knew I didn’t have the strength to fight Casey for much longer.
By now, the air above the transfer stage had begun to shiver and twist. I had no more than seconds before it carried Greenbrooke and the cargo of bees back to the Authority.
I realized that Casey was growing weaker. He was on his knees now, still struggling to be free, and I let myself fall to one side, pulling him after me. I looked over at Rozalia, and saw she had managed once more to get a hold of her rifle and was struggling to aim it.
Casey took advantage of my distraction, reaching back to dig his fingers into my eyes. I screamed and twisted away, and he took the advantage, surging back to his feet just as a loud explosion filled the confined space. Casey staggered and fell within the transfer stage’s perimeter, blood pouring down his leg.
The air around him shimmered like a summer heat haze and I knew I was out of time. Even badly wounded, Casey would still be able to open the cage once he crossed over to the Authority.
In an instant, I knew what I had to do.
I scrambled over to the laptop controlling the stage. The screen showed a countdown with just seconds to go, and a set of transfer coordinates flashing red. I had been taught, during my last week of training, how to program a transfer stage control rig to get me back to the island in an emergency. I quickly tapped an icon, then reset the coordinates to a null sequence.
I tur
ned in time to see Casey crawling towards the transfer stage’s perimeter, stark terror etched on his face. He knew what I had done. Then he vanished, sent spinning into some unimaginable void along with Greenbrooke and the cage of bees. The space encircled by the field-pillars was as silent and empty as if nothing and no one had ever been there.
‘Jerry.’
I went over to kneel by Rozalia. I could see she was struggling to breathe.
‘Just hang on there,’ I said, feeling helpless. ‘I can recalibrate the stage, jump us all the way back to the island. There are doctors there . . .’
‘Stop trying to be a fucking hero,’ she gasped. ‘Go get Yuichi. He’s right where you left him.’
‘Of course.’ I glanced back towards the stage. How long would it take me to power it up again? How many minutes? Too many, I realized.
‘I wanted Casey to pay for what he did to Nadia. And to you. Do you understand?’ Her hand reached out, taking hold of my own. ‘You’re a good man, Jerry Beche.’
‘Yeah, and we can talk about that when you’re feeling better. How the hell did you even get past those tripwires?’
She smiled faintly. ‘By paying attention,’ she whispered.
Her eyes closed and I felt her grow slack in my arms.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Come on. Wake up. Rozalia. Wake the fuck up. I . . .’
And then I looked down, at the blood still spreading across the floor, and knew it was already much too late.
I got back up and hunted around until I found a key, sitting on a dusty shelf, that fitted the cuffs. I programmed some adjustments to the transfer stage’s settings, then paused, seeing Casey’s video camera still mounted on its tripod.
I picked the camera up and turned it this way and that until I found a slot with a memory card. I popped the card out and pocketed it, then made my way up the stairs and out into the late afternoon sunshine. Off in the distance, I saw a trailing line of bee-brains. They didn’t look as if they were headed my way, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I started to run back to where I’d left Yuichi.
