Unthinkable

by Brad Parks

  “But at the same time, DeGange had supposedly foreseen that you were going to do this awful thing. And I couldn’t just dismiss it completely, because I had already seen some of DeGange’s other predictions come true. I thought if there was even a chance this was real—”

  “It was too great a risk to take with the girls,” Nate said. “I understand completely. Believe me. But . . . are you sure he was trying to get you to kill me? Because all this time he’s been pretty insistent that I need to kill you.”

  The clock had already turned to 9:47. Jenny knew Rogers might wait a few minutes before closing in, but he wouldn’t hold off forever. She willed her mouth to go faster.

  “No, trust me,” she said. “You know that domestic violence complaint? I’ll bet you anything that was Rogers. He was trying to create my defense. That cop who came and talked to you, that was all about establishing that you had been physically abusive toward me. That way, when you came after me with a gun, I could say I legitimately feared for my life and had no choice but to kill you.”

  “Okay, I grant you that, but why would Rogers want me dead? My understanding of the Praesidium is that it exists to save humanity from impending catastrophes. I can’t imagine how killing me would accomplish that.”

  “It’s not about you. It’s about me,” Jenny said. “Look, I don’t know what Rogers has and hasn’t told you. So I’m just going to start at the beginning. There’s a man named Vanslow DeGange who can see the future.”

  “I’m aware. He predicted a tornado for me.”

  “Okay, so you’ve seen it demonstrated too. It’s wild, right? And you’ve been told the stories about Kennedy and King and all that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, so about two months ago, Rogers approached me with the whole spiel,” Jenny said. “He wanted me to leave CMR, leave Richmond, leave you, and join the Praesidium. I said no way. I told him I had a great life, with a perfect husband and a perfect family, and I had no desire to join some secret society, or to raise my girls in some weird cult, or go around doing . . . whatever it is they do.

  “I wouldn’t say he accepted my decision, but eventually he realized he wasn’t going to change my mind, so he went away. I thought that was the end of it—that he was really going to drop it and move on to someone else—until earlier this week when he approached me again with this wild story about how you were going to kill me. He said it didn’t have anything to do with me joining or not joining the Praesidium, but that Vanslow DeGange had foreseen it and now they wanted to protect me. I told him I didn’t believe him, but he insisted I take this gun, because you were going to show up in the bedroom ready to kill me on Friday night. So the question is, what kind of crap has he been telling you to get you to actually do it?”

  As she spoke, Jenny could almost see the Nate she knew and loved returning to her—the way his eyes searched out hers, the way his face was softening. He was looking more like the man she shared her life with, less like the stranger who had been inhabiting the house with her for the last few days.

  “The better question is what kind of crap hasn’t he told me?” Nate said. “Basically, it was that you were the most dangerous person in world history, because this CP and L lawsuit was going to establish this precedent that would lead to the elimination of coal-fired power plants, which would have the unintended consequence of triggering a global warming catastrophe. He said Mr. DeGange had foreseen more than a billion people dying as a result and that if I didn’t take you out, the Praesidium would have to step in. And that because it had to look like an accident, the girls and I would probably be killed too. So it was basically: kill my wife, or the entire family dies.”

  “Oh God, Nate.”

  “I know.”

  “I think that’s all . . . first of all, there will be no precedent established with the CP and L case, since it’s based on one faulty plant that is clearly exceeding its Clean Air Act limits. The rest of that stuff, I’m pretty sure DeGange never predicted anything like that. Rogers is just making it up. You’re the real target here.”

  “Yeah, and why is that?”

  “I think I’m supposed to be incredibly grateful toward Rogers and the Praesidium for saving my life. And with you dead, and me having killed you, I wouldn’t have that perfect life I bragged about anymore. Between those two things, Rogers was hoping it would make me feel compelled to run off and join the Praesidium.”

  “I still don’t understand. Why does the Praesidium want you so badly?”

  Jenny took in a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling before returning her gaze to Nate.

  “This is going to be a little hard to believe,” she said.

  “I’ve seen a lot of things this week that fit that category.”

  “I know, but this one is . . .”

  She faltered for a moment, then resumed with renewed purpose: “Vanslow DeGange isn’t the only one who has this mutation, this thing that allows him to sense future events. I have the gift too.”

  CHAPTER 37

  NATE

  For a long moment, I just stood there like a big, dumb six-foot-four mannequin, neither moving, nor speaking, nor comprehending what my wife had just said.

  It was like three days of almost nonstop turmoil and confusion had left me unable to parse even the most basic words. Everything she’d said after “mutation” had come in too fast or too loud—or too, I don’t know, mind blowing—for me to handle.

  “What do you mean, you have the gift?” I asked, stupidly.

  “It’s hard to describe if you don’t have it yourself. Has Rogers told you about the currents and the ripples?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, basically, I can sense them too,” Jenny said. “I can’t do it nearly as well as Vanslow DeGange does. He’s had a lifetime of practice and I’m . . . I’m just starting to open my eyes. That’s why Rogers is so hot to have me join the Praesidium. I’m supposed to come and be trained by DeGange so that when he dies, I can take over and the Praesidium can continue its mission.”

  Finally, the electrical currents in my brain started moving again. Was this really so unbelievable? In some ways, I had known this for a long time now. Jenny always did have that incredible intuition. That ten-steps-ahead sense of anticipation. That talent that took her from that small farm in Surry County to the heights of corporate law.

  She had always been like a slightly different organism than everyone else around her.

  So dazzling.

  “Basically, the Praesidium wants you, and I’m just the guy in the way,” I said, shaking my head. “The thing I still don’t understand is . . . I thought there was no such thing as free will. I thought that was an accident of the senses. But this, what we’re doing right now, what we just did . . . it all feels a lot like we’re actually in control.”

  “That’s because we are,” Jenny insisted. “I don’t know what Rogers has told you, but the main problem the Praesidium faces isn’t that there’s no free will. It’s that there’s too damn much of it. That’s why the Praesidium is constantly interceding in things, trying to change the course of human events.”

  “Rogers said that next Tuesday is a place that exists in space-time, much like Omaha, Nebraska, is a place that exists in space-time,” I said. “And if next Tuesday already exists, then in a manner of speaking it’s already happened, and there is no free will.”

  Jenny was shaking her head before I even finished the thought.

  “Next Tuesday exists just like Omaha exists. That’s true. But you can still alter next Tuesday in the same way that you can alter Omaha. You can knock down a building or build a new road or divert a river or do a million other things that change Omaha. The future isn’t some stone monolith. It’s like desert sands, constantly shifting in a windstorm. Every action you take is like another gust. If Rogers told you there was no free will, it’s just because that’s what he wanted you to believe, so he could twist your mind even more.”

  “He definitely succeeded a
t that,” I said.

  Jenny actually smiled. “I know. Look, I’m sure this is all a little bit of a shock. I’ve had two months to think about it and I still can’t always get my head around it. And I promise I’ll explain everything later—at least as much as I can. But for right now, Rogers is out there somewhere. And he’s going to expect to hear a gunshot very soon.”

  “Okay. And what happens after that? I’m lying dead, he shows up, and . . . what exactly?”

  “I don’t know. As I understand it, my killing you is the first step. That’s what allows me to take their oath, get their brand, join the order.”

  “It’s what bonds them. He explained that to me.”

  “After that, I have no idea,” she said. “I never let Rogers get that far, because I never believed you would try to hurt me. Every time he tried to talk about what we were going to do after I killed you, I shut him down.”

  “Well, we need a plan, and fast,” I said.

  My mind was a blank. Jenny’s face was squeezed in concentration.

  “I just don’t know if we have any good options here,” she said. “Rogers has made it very clear with me from the beginning that there’s only one way with the Praesidium. Once you are made aware of them, you either do as they say and kill whoever needs to be killed or they kill you. There’s no in-between. How do you think they’ve been able to exist this long without the wider world becoming aware of them? They leave nothing to chance.”

  “So that’s it? Join them or die? Some choice.”

  “They see themselves as ultimately virtuous, making these sacrifices for the good of humanity. It’s all about the math with them. Did they save more people than they killed? If they did, it’s a win. They don’t get that the ends don’t always justify the means. But, look, forget about that. We need to focus.”

  “Can’t you get in touch with the currents—or whatever—and come up with a plan?”

  Jenny got her frustrated look, the one she wore during the rare times in her life when she wasn’t able to bend the world to her will. “I wish I could. I’m still so new at this. And if it doesn’t involve death or dying, I’m hopeless. Besides, apparently even Vanslow DeGange needs perfect conditions to be able to focus on the currents—quiet, calm, a period of uninterrupted—”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. That’s not now.”

  We lapsed into silence again.

  A bad idea started coming into my head, one that had more flaws than I could even begin to enumerate. I began voicing it anyway, blurting it out before I could really think it through.

  “What if we just pretend you’ve shot me?” I asked. “It’s what Rogers is expecting so let’s give it to him. We fire a gun. He comes running. You pretend to be completely distraught and say you just want to get out of here. I’ll stay up here in the bedroom and pretend to be dead.”

  “So, what, I just take the girls and go wherever he leads me?”

  “Yeah, basically. It’s not like they’re going to harm you. You’re the prophet-in-training, the future leader.”

  “But what happens when the Praesidium figures out you’re not actually dead? I have to imagine Vanslow DeGange will become aware of you at some point. And then I would have taken a false vow. I can’t imagine they’ll look too fondly on that.”

  “It’s not a great plan,” I admitted. “It’s not even a good one. But Rogers has to think one of us is dead, and he’ll be a lot happier if it’s me. You and the girls will be fine for the time being. This at least gets everyone out of tonight alive. Then we’ll worry about tomorrow.”

  “All right. There are like a thousand ways this could go wrong. But all right.”

  “Go get the girls. Take them downstairs. I have a death to stage.”

  Jenny climbed out of bed, tossed a fleece on over her pajamas, stuffed her feet into jogging shoes, and grabbed me on the shoulders.

  “I love you so much,” she said.

  She was approaching like she was going to kiss me. I actually half turned away.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I realize this isn’t the time, but . . . I know about Greg Grichtmeier.”

  “What about him?”

  “That you’ve been having an affair with him.”

  Jenny was looking at me like I had fourteen heads. “No I’m not. I swear.”

  “Look, it doesn’t matter right now, okay? Rogers showed me the pictures of the two of you going in and out of that hotel, The Commonwealth—”

  I stopped myself. As soon as I said “Rogers showed me,” I was realizing I had probably been played.

  “Greg Grichtmeier is the one who has been secretly feeding me documents for the CP and L lawsuit,” Jenny said. “You know he works on the CP and L account at his firm, right? During an audit, he became aware of massive problems with the Shockoe Generation Plant. I’ve been having us meet at the hotel because I didn’t trust his email server or ours and it was the only place we could—”

  “I get it. I get it,” I said, feeling both a little stupid and enormously relieved. “Sorry. Rogers is just—”

  She grabbed me and kissed me hard on the mouth.

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  “Thanks for not killing me.”

  “Likewise. Now be careful.”

  “I will.”

  And before I could tell her to be even more careful, she was out of the room.

  I looked down at my gun, which had never left my gloved hand.

  First order of business: Rogers was out there somewhere and needed to hear a gunshot. One that would sound like a book dropping. I aimed the gun at the ceiling, because I needed to point it somewhere, and the floor seemed like a poor choice.

  “Okay,” I called out softly to Jenny. “Fire in the hole.”

  I squeezed the trigger, flinching involuntarily as I did so. Even with the silencer, the noise was louder than I expected.

  Good. Rogers needed to be convinced.

  I looked up at where I had aimed, expecting to see a big chunk of missing Sheetrock.

  Instead, the ceiling was totally smooth.

  There were no holes. Not even one as tiny as a bullet.

  I looked down at the gun again. I had definitely fired it. I had heard it. I could smell it.

  So where had the bullet gone?

  Not wanting to waste more time, I grabbed a glass of water and spilled it. That would have to be my stand-in for the volume of blood that should have spilled out of my body before my heart stopped pumping.

  I lowered myself to the floor and lay facedown. I placed my arms and legs at awkward, deathlike angles and turned my head away from the door. My hope was that if anyone from the Praesidium came upstairs to investigate, they would see my prone body in the dark, lying in a pool of liquid whose color they wouldn’t be able to see, and decide just to leave me undisturbed for the police to find.

  As I lay there, I was still thinking about the bullet, and what happened to it, and why there was no hole in the ceiling.

  And then I got it.

  There was no bullet.

  The gun had been loaded with blanks. Rogers had sold me that whole story about a bullet with magic, ballistics-test-defying properties simply so I wouldn’t tamper with the weapon.

  That’s why he had so cavalierly handed the gun to me that night he had kidnapped me, then didn’t flinch when I pointed it at him. It didn’t have anything to do with any prophecy of Vanslow DeGange’s. He knew I couldn’t have hurt anyone with it if I wanted to.

  Most of all, I wasn’t going to be able to hurt Jenny, the chosen one, the next prophet. Even if I had pulled the trigger first during our confrontation, it wouldn’t have mattered.

  The whole time, this weapon—whose lethality I’d so feared—had been about as dangerous as a paperweight.

  CHAPTER 38

  JENNY

  Jenny scurried into Parker’s bedroom, then sat down and rubbed her daughter’s back in one gesture.

  “Parker, honey, you have
to wake up. Mommy needs you to be a big girl and come with me very quickly.”

  Jenny could see Parker’s eyes open and reflect back what little light there was in the room.

  “Mommy,” she said groggily.

  “Yes, honey. Come on. We have to be quick like little bunnies. Fast, fast, fast.”

  Jenny was about to lift the little girl out of bed when she heard Nate’s warning about the impending gunshot.

  “There’s going to be a noise. Don’t be scared,” Jenny said, covering Parker’s ears.

  The gun sounded its muted report.

  Which meant the Praesidium was now on its way. Rogers had told Jenny he’d be listening for the sound of a gunshot.

  She scurried to the other side of the room, grabbed a pair of pink sneakers, then shoved them on her daughter’s feet.

  “You’re coming with Mommy now, all right?” Jenny said. “We’re leaving Daddy here. He’s fine. We’re just going on a little adventure. You, me, and Cate-Cate. Got it?”

  Parker just nodded. She dutifully followed Jenny toward Cate’s room.

  Halfway there, Jenny heard two thumps coming from the back porch.

  Then, from the front porch, came two more thumps.

  Each one sounded like a book dropping.

  Jenny felt a sickening dread in her stomach from the knowledge of what those thumps might have been, even as she clung to the hope she was mistaken.

  She kept moving all the same. Creating separation between Rogers and Nate was now her primary objective. She bent over the crib and scooped up Cate, who didn’t stir as she was transferred gently to her mother’s shoulder.

  “Okay,” Jenny whispered to a still-disoriented Parker. “We’re going to the car now.”

  As they descended the stairs, the front door opened. A man dressed in black tactical gear appeared, straining to walk backward over the doorstep. He was dragging something bulky, something heavy.

  A body.