S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11)

by Tanpepper, Saul

  The engine roared to life. Kelly gave the man an apologetic shrug, then stepped in and shut the door. The man gawped after them, as Eric pulled away.

  “Does Jessie know about this?”

  Kelly nodded. She does now.

  “What’s the program?”

  “A firewall. It’s blocking certain types of access to Jessie’s devices.”

  “You will make this right,” Eric said. His face was deep red and the veins in his temples were throbbing. “We are going to secure that equipment, take it back to the house. After that, you will do nothing — not a god damned thing — until you fix this problem with Jessie’s implant. Do you hear me?”

  Kelly nodded.

  “I fully expect Citizen Registration to ping us in a couple days, and I have an ugly feeling what they’re going to say when they do. So whatever the hell this firewall thing is, however it’s blocking her implant, you better hope you can unblock it before then, or so help me . . . .”

  He sputtered for several seconds, his fingers wringing the steering wheel. He turned one last time to Kelly. “Because if they so much as even try to place Jessie under protective custody, I will find you, Kelly, and I will— You’ve got till Monday morning to make this right.”

  Kelly swallowed. The lump in his throat felt like a boulder. He nodded again and muttered something that he hoped sounded like agreement. But the fact of the matter was, even if the gear weren’t broken, even if he could get back into The Game and use the Player to retrieve the key from Ulysses Daniels’s Link, what were they going to do with it? The only two people he knew with the skills to wield it were dead.

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  Chapter 30

  Doctor White glanced at her Link and pushed away from her desk. “I’m already late for my rounds.”

  “Not so fast,” Jessie said. She stood up, intending to block the woman’s exit. “You haven’t told me what my grandfather has to do with all this. Why did he put firewalls on my devices?”

  “To prevent Arc from controlling you. That’s as much as I can say for now, Jessie. If I don’t show up to my rounds soon, the staff will start looking for me. It’s better if we’re not seen together.”

  “But you haven’t answered all of my questions.”

  “You’ll be thinking of them for a long time to come. And there will be time enough to answer them. But for now, I think it’s best if you and Kelly talk to each other, bring each other up to speed. Once you’re both on the same page, then we’ll decide how to proceed.”

  “And you’ll answer all my questions then? You’ll tell us both?”

  “Come back in tomorrow to check on your friend upstairs. Give me a ping when you arrive here and I’ll make time for the three of us to talk some more. I promise. As for answering your questions, I’ll do my best.”

  “One last thing before I go.”

  Doctor White’s Link pinged and she drew it out of her pocket and checked the screen. “They’re wondering where I am. I’m sorry, Jessie, but I have to answer this.”

  Jessie chuffed with frustration. She waited for Doctor White to assure the pinger that she’d be there in a few minutes. As she did, she stepped over to the door and put her hand on the knob. Jessie reached out with her own hand to stop her.

  “I’ll leave,” Jessie said, once White had disconnected, “but I need to know one thing. What does Kyle have to do with any of this?”

  Doctor White hesitated. At last she took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “If all goes as planned, the cure.”

  † † †

  Jessie took a taxi home. Doctor White even paid for it, although Jessie suspected it had more to do with making sure she left the hospital building than ensuring she’d arrive safely at her house. Jessie still had mixed feelings about what she’d learned and serious doubts about whether Doctor White had anyone’s best interests at heart but her own. And that thing about Kyle and the cure, she just couldn’t see how the two might be connected.

  “Talk to Kelly,” White had insisted. “He’ll explain.”

  The cabby was a dark man who smelled of cooking oil and wore a sweat-stained knit cap. He kept removing it and running his hand over the few defiant strands of hair struggling to hold on. His scalp was flaky and spotted. Jessie was pretty sure he was close to conscription age and wondered how he felt about that. When you’re young and don’t have to pay taxes, giving up your years of life after age sixty-four seems like a fair trade. You don’t really think about it because it’s so far off into the future.

  There was a small pucker of skin on the back of the man’s neck, a tiny circular divot, the only evidence that an implant had been inserted there. From the looks of it, Jessie guessed that it was probably one of the first ones.

  The car rattled along the streets, stitching its way between the packed vehicles. Though the traffic was starting to thin out from earlier in the evening, the going was still slow. The cabbie didn’t seem to mind, though, and neither did Jessie. She still wasn’t sure what she’d say to Eric and Kelly when she got home.

  “You have family in hospital?” the man asked.

  Jessie shook her head distractedly. “No. A friend.”

  He nodded. “It is surely something, no? All this different things happening everywhere?”

  “What things?”

  The man raised his face and looked knowingly at her through the rearview mirror. His eyes were watery, the whites yellowed and the skin surrounding them pink and swollen. He didn’t answer.

  “You mean about the government’s implant initiative?” she asked.

  “Yes!” He nodded vigorously and smiled. His lips separated, revealing jagged teeth the color of weak tea. There were dark places where a couple of them were missing. “That is exactly what I am meaning. I am telling people there is no way it is a coincidence.”

  “Coincidence? The rumors?”

  Another exuberant nod. “But there are things many different riders are telling me, not just one or two. You know? And I do not pay attention to the black streams! Oh no, but I cannot control what the others listen to or what they are always telling me to my ears, can I? I cannot close them with my hands when I am driving.”

  They both knew what they were doing, saying things in a roundabout manner. Some things just weren’t safe to discuss head-on with strangers, things like rumors and their sources. For all she knew, the driver could secretly be working for the police. Or Arc. And for all he knew, she could be as well.

  “But what can you do?” he asked, and smiled again. The cap came off, the strands were combed. “I must listen because I am not able to close my ears.”

  Jessie shrugged and turned away. They passed a public utility truck, the tower extended into the sky, presumably to provide a stronger localized signal. A manhole cover had been pulled off the road and was surrounded by green cones tipped by pink. A man was standing beside them holding a tablet in his hands, a set of Operator goggles on his face. She tried to imagine the zombies beneath the road as they passed.

  “Repairing the underground electricity wires,” the driver said, nodding in that direction. He seemed to shudder, but then checked in with Jessie in the mirror, his wet eyes crinkling. “This is what I am thinking.”

  Maybe it was because she was physically tired. It had surely been a very long day. Maybe it was because she was mentally exhausted after all she’d just been through. Or tired of all the pretending. She said, “It’s all Arc’s fault. And the government’s.”

  They were reckless accusations, stupid and baseless, and she regretted them as soon as they came out. Even so, the moment she heard herself say it, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was true.

  The driver’s whole body jerked and the taxi swerved slightly. The car in the adjacent lane burped out a tired honk and the passenger glared at them. But the cabbie kept his eyes forward, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead.

  He spoke not another word for the remainder of the ride. And when he reached her a
ddress, he screeched to a stop at the curb in front of her house. Jessie barely had time to step out before he sped away.

  “Hey!” she shouted. She hadn’t even shut the door. It swung wide before closing with a bang.

  Guess people are on edge.

  She expected the boys to be home, but when she reached the front door, it was locked, and she figured they’d stopped off at the Caseys to pick up the gaming gear. She wondered about her brother’s mental state. He must be terribly confused right now.

  She was confused herself. Despite White’s assurances, she still didn’t know if she could trust him anymore. But would she have done anything differently if she had been in his place?

  It still doesn’t give him a free pass.

  No. They both shared some of the blame.

  He should’ve told you everything right from the start, then none of this would have ever happened.

  She unlocked the door and entered the empty house, knowing full well that last thought was as much a lie as anything else.

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  Chapter 31

  Kelly stopped pacing past the doorway and stepped out onto the concrete step. The air was still hot, in spite of the sun being low on the horizon, but he couldn’t take the heat of Eric’s withering glare any longer.

  A narrow walkway led from Reggie’s garage to the side of the house and out to the street. Until a few weeks ago, the walk had been overhung by a row of tall bushes. In the past, they’d provided a welcome respite from the afternoon sun, as well as considerable privacy from the neighbors. But the plants had developed some sort of disease late last spring and the leaves had turned a sickly yellow and curled. By the beginning of summer break, the wood itself was mottled with what appeared to be black mold. Last weekend, Mister Casey told Reggie to trim the bushes back nearly to the stumps in the hopes of saving them.

  For the first time, Kelly could see into the adjoining backyard. The small cottage belonged to an odd old couple which he’d met only once and seen maybe a half dozen times. Reggie had said that they were deaf, which explained why Mister Casey could have his rowdy beer bashes several times each summer. The parties always went late into the evening, and the music and shouts were occasionally loud enough to be heard on the street.

  Sometimes the boys — usually just Reggie and Micah, since Kelly tended to avoid drugs and alcohol — would sneak beers from the fridge and troll beneath the cushions the following day for stray joints or pills. Like Kelly, Reggie wasn’t much of a pill-popper or smoker, not like Micah had been, but he could sure pack away the alcohol.

  Micah had always teased Reggie about his dad, saying Mister Casey was just a big kid who’d never outgrown his college years. Reggie would just laugh along good-naturedly. He didn’t care if it was true or not.

  Kelly had always believed Micah’s assessment badly missed the mark. While it was true that Mister Casey enjoyed acting like he was still in his twenties, the way Kelly saw it, it wasn’t so much that he was unwilling to let go of the past, as much as he wanted desperately to escape the present.

  “That’s the last of it,” Eric grunted. In his arms was the bulky holo projector. He elbowed Kelly off the threshold and toed the door closed behind him. “Lock it up.”

  Kelly did as he was told. He pulled aside the loose shingle beside the door and reached for the key in the dark recess.

  He caught up with Eric in time to help him load the projector into the trunk of the car. Eric refused to look him in the eye— hadn’t even tried to hold a conversation with him the whole entire time he’d packed up the gear, except once to remark that the sticker underneath the main gaming console was the same one they used at the police station. Kelly had responded with genuine surprise, but nothing more was said about it. The link between Doctor White and the police more than startled him. He began to wonder if the doctor’s intentions weren’t as guileless as he’d wanted to believe.

  “Listen, Eric,” Kelly tried to say, as Eric slammed the trunk door down. The silence was driving him crazy. “I know you’re angry and all, but—”

  Eric turned his back and stepped over to his door. He got into the car, started it up and drove away without waiting for Kelly.

  “Guess I’m walking home,” Kelly muttered.

  † † †

  The last of the daylight had long since fled from the sky before he turned up the Daniels’s front walk. (He still had trouble thinking of the house as his own, and events of late made it especially hard to think of himself as part of the family.)

  He noticed that the trunk of Eric’s car was still open, and he checked inside to make sure everything had been removed to the house before closing it. Taking in a deep breath of the lukewarm air, he tried to prepare himself for the inevitable encounter inside. What would he say to Jessie? What would she say back?

  The windows were brightly lit, but from where he was standing out on the driveway, he could only see the top half of the living room wall and the ceiling. A feeling of homesickness overtook him.

  You don’t belong here.

  The end of summer was still weeks away and a gentle evening breeze was blowing. Though far from chilly, it was the mildest he’d felt in months. The fall-like wind lifted the hair from his forehead and bent it toward the back, and anyone seeing him in that moment might’ve been struck by the utter despair in his eyes, despair and desolation. Everything he’d worked for all these years had, in a matter of weeks, simply vanished.

  Not vanished. Been thrown away.

  He had to make everything right. Earning back Jessie’s love and Eric’s trust was going to be hard.

  Forgiving himself was another story altogether.

  His shoulders sagging, he turned around and began to walk away.

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  Chapter 32

  Jessie had been sitting quietly in the gathering darkness of the living room when Eric walked in lugging the heavy holo projector in his arms. She saw him throw a furtive glance toward the television, trying not to be obvious. But she hadn’t been watching Survivalist. In fact, it’d been a couple days since she had. He just hadn’t been around enough to notice.

  “Where’s Kelly?” she asked.

  “Walking home.” His face was stoic, but Jessie could tell he was angry and she knew immediately that they’d had some kind of confrontation.

  He brought the machine in and set it on the floor in the corner of the room with a grunt.

  “Eric, what’d you say to him?”

  “It’s not what I said to him, it’s what he told me.”

  “It’s not his fault.”

  “Really? Because it actually sounds like it is.”

  “He’ll fix it. He’s already been trying.”

  Eric simply frowned at her and shook his head. “I hope you’re right.” And he walked back out the door to bring in the remaining gear.

  When he was finished, he checked his Link and excused himself, claiming he was exhausted. Jessie knew he wasn’t tired. It was just an excuse to avoid Kelly.

  His bedroom door clicked quietly shut. A few minutes later, she heard the creak of his bed, and she pictured him sitting there, his work shirt hanging on the hook on the back of the door, shoes kicked into a corner, his face drawn and haggard, looking older than his twenty-eight years. She could see him staring blankly at the wall and wondering how things could have gotten so out of control.

  He worked so hard to take care of her. She wondered why he even bothered sometimes.

  She was feeling deeply guilty about the way she’d treated them. In particular, she cursed herself for doubting Kelly. How could she have so easily let her love for him sour? Was she really that shallow, that capricious? Hadn’t they just promised each other to be faithful?

  But as she sat waiting for her husband to return, she tried only to focus on the good they had shared. God, how she loved him. She would do whatever it took to fix things.

  The waiting made her restless, so she got up and paced. When a half hour pas
sed, she grew worried. When thirty more minutes slipped away, she despaired. She retreated to her bedroom and crawled into bed without getting undressed.

  He finally came in shortly after eleven. She heard the jangle of his keys, the soft squeak of his sneakers on the floor below, and she sat up, sighing with relief.

  The faucet in the kitchen turned on for a moment, shut off. The downstairs toilet flushed.

  She couldn’t decide whether to stand or sit. Finally, she lay down facing the door.

  She heard him come up the stairs. She heard the soft rustle of his feet on the carpet outside in the hallway. The door slid open and there was his silhouette. He stood motionless, as if waiting for an invitation. Jessie shifted over to let him know she was awake, and he stepped in. He came and sat down next to her and the bed sank and the gravity of their bodies pulled them together. She took his hand and held it up to her face and used his fingers to wipe away her tears.

  “I am so sorry, Jessie,” he whispered. “I totally screwed everything up.”

  “Shh,” she told him. She raised her hand and brushed her fingers through his hair. “Lie down.”

  He did, pressing himself against her body.

  Her hand traveled the length of his arm, slipped to his thigh, then over to his stomach. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and she felt him nod in understanding. Tomorrow there would be a reckoning of wrongs, a sharing of secrets, a time for confessions. But not tonight. Tonight was about them, about fixing the broken connection between them.

  She swept her hand to his side and she heard him suck in a sharp breath as it passed over the bandage. “Still hurts?” she asked, and once again he nodded. “Well, maybe I can make you forget about it for a while.”

  “Yes,” he said, turning to face her. He buried his nose in her shoulder and inhaled the scent of her skin. “I’d like that.”

  † † †