by Greg Enslen
“Yes. Well, we’ve had our share of interesting times, and I’m sure you will fit in just fine.” He paused for a moment long enough for Julie to begin thinking that they might have been somehow disconnected, and then he continued. “Darren tells me that you are very good. I hope that we get a chance to see that in action. Actually, I also called to tell you that the plans have changed again. That’s something you’ll have to get used to, anyway. We’ve not been able to get what we wanted finished here as quickly as we had anticipated, so it looks like we will be here at least another week, maybe two. After that, some of the Team members will not be returning to D.C. anyway but are going on to another location for something else, so it looks like you’ll get to meet all of us in stages.”
“Yes, sir,” Julie replied, unsure of exactly what she was supposed to say.
“I assume you’ve read up on Wildfire, correct?”
She glanced down at the blue file on her desk. “Yes, sir. It looks quite exciting. I’ve never worked with that large of a mainframe before, and I’ve certainly never worked with a Cray.”
“Good, good. Listen, Darren tells me that the main unit is supposed to be delivered in three days, on Friday. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Julie answered. “As far as I know, the subsystems and peripherals are already installed, along with the power systems, and the main unit is to be delivered on Friday the 17th. The Cray Company representatives and training staff will arrive on Monday and begin training us.”
“Ah, yeah. That’s what I thought. Well, I was hoping that we would be back in time for all of that, but it doesn’t look like we’re going to be out of here before the 21st at the earliest. I guess that means you’re on your own with the Cray.”
Julie felt something queasy move in her stomach. She sat up. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the Frenchies don’t have any concept of computer security, or we would have been out of here weeks ago. What I am going to need from you is to represent the Team on Friday when they come to install the Cray, and do whatever Paynod asks. Can you do that for us?”
She swallowed, her throat dry. “Me? Ahh, yes, sir.”
Peter laughed, and even though the laugh was wavering and electronic and static-filled by the overseas connection, it still made her feel a lot better. “Yes you, but don’t worry. The computer hardware techs down in the main computer room will actually oversee all of the installation procedure. There are the two special rooms in part of the main computer room where the Cray and its subsystems will be housed, and the techies are all already briefed on what to do. I just want a representative of the Team to be there, keeping an eye on things.”
She relaxed a little and leaned back into her chair. “Well, that’s good. You had me worried there for a second that I was going to have to boss around a lot of people that know more about what they’re doing than I do.”
“No, no,” Peter answered. “You’ll just be there representing us. But talk to Paynod or Mike Wallace - I know we’re supposed to do something with the Cray, program it with a basic search or something.” There was a momentary pause. “Okay, okay,” Peter said, but his voice was low and muffled even more than usual, and Julie got the distinct impression that he was talking to someone else. He came back on, his voice stronger and a little louder. “Okay, I’ve gotta go. Can you take care of this? All you need to do is oversee the installation and thank the Cray people. Oh, and see if you can get them to back up the training session until next Thursday or Friday, okay? And play around on the Cray a little bit before we get back, after you find out what the higher-ups want, okay?” His voice was hurried, as if he wanted to get all of this out and get back to whatever he was doing before. “Most of us should be back on Wednesday, Thursday of next week at the latest. All right?”
“Yes, sir. Things will be fine here, and don’t worry about the Cray. I’m looking forward to meeting all of the Team,” Julie answered, trying hard not to sound like she was kissing up to him.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll make a great addition to our Team. Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye, sir,” she replied, and hung up.
Sounded like a nice guy, except for the part where he had practically dumped the whole Wildfire Project into her lap for at least a week, maybe more.
She remembered the list. Mike Wallace, Deputy Director of Personnel, avant-garde decorator, and informal personnel head for the Team, had asked her to come up with a list of ideas for the project. The Timetable was: the Cray was to be delivered on Thursday, and on Friday and over the weekend the technicians from the computer department would download every criminal file from all over the country. The process whereby the FBI would be linked to every state computer system in turn, was supposed to take about 48 or 72 hours, so the timetable suggested that by Monday or Tuesday, the Cray should be up and running with its memory banks just crammed full of information on every crime carried out in the United States in the past fifty or so years.
Julie was supposed to come up with a list of preliminary searches that they could do as soon as all of the information had been received and stored. It seemed like a daunting task to her, but she grabbed the files around her and stacked them away from her on one corner of smallish desk, tore off the pages of notes from the Team files that she had taken and set them aside, and started thinking.
After a minute, several ideas had come to her, and she bent, scribbling to write them down.
He sat in his Mazda for a long time with the radio off, glancing up every once in a while to look at her front door. He really didn’t want to go in there, and to occupy his mind, he tried to make a list of the things he was going to say to her. It didn’t really help, though, because everything he wanted to tell her and all the different ways he wanted to say it to her, it all boiled down to the same small set of words: “Aunt Gloria, I’m leaving to move to California and I won’t be back.” Everything else that came before or after was just garnish, he knew - if he could just go in there and tell her that, the rest would be easy.
But he couldn’t get over the feeling that he was abandoning her. Oh, sure, Abe said he would take care of the move, take care of getting her set up in the new place and all of that. It was a nice place that Abe had picked out for her, one more in a collection of “nice little places” in an apartment complex on the northern end of town. David had been over to see it yesterday - it wasn’t bad, with its perfectly landscaped lawns, all maintained by a small squad of Hispanic men. He’d seen one of them driving a little gold cart, going busily off to somewhere to plant something, maybe replacing some poor plant that had died an early, sun-baked death - it had been so hot lately that a lot of plants around town were dying. The past two weeks had been particularly blazing, a weather pattern that the men on TV said would break soon - David certainly hoped so. September and this hot? Winter was coming soon, and David would be missing it, hopefully - he’d be in California, basking in the sun on a beach somewhere. There, it could as hot as it wanted. At least he’d be away from Liberty.
But the apartments – they called them “bungalows” at this place, like they were some kind of log cabin up in the mountains – were nice, and he had seen several other groups of people in their 50’s and 60’s wandering around the complex, so David was sure that his Aunt would meet some people. Of course, there was no telling what she would think - his Aunt Gloria prided herself on speaking her mind whenever and wherever she felt like it, drunk or not. That particular personality trait had caused David more than a little embarrassment over the years. But being outspoken was better than just taking whatever came her way, David supposed. If only he had learned to be a little more like her, a little less accepting, a little more willing to take control of his own future.
But then, that’s why he was here - he was taking control of his own destiny.
But should he do it? Why should he have to feel responsible for turning his Aunt’s life around, making things all better for all the people around him? Wasn’t he entitled to
a little looking out for number one? He’d done everything he could, tried every angle he could think of, and still his aunt dropped to her knees on a daily basis and worshipped at the altar every chance she got. Maybe it was high time somebody else tried their luck at turning her life around, drying her out. So far, David hadn’t exactly been up to the task - maybe Abe Foreman would have better luck at it.
But getting out of that old house and getting her away from all of those old memories would help. Maybe Abe was right - she needed to move on with her life, and Abe’s ideas about moving her out certainly would encourage his aunt to start looking out for herself more. Maybe she would even make some friends with her new neighbors - those little apartments were crammed so close together that they were practically living in each other’s front yards, and David didn’t see how she could keep from meeting a few new people.
Either way, David didn’t need to stick around for that. He knew that it would work - she might not be too keen on the idea at the start, but he had gotten her over that hill when he’d talked to her on Sunday night. She would get used to the idea of moving out, and now she’d have to get used to the idea of moving out with him not around to help her. He had to leave.
David Beaumont finally popped the car door open and climbed out, his knees popping from too much time sitting in the car, thinking. The lights were on all over his aunt’s house even though it was only a few minutes till noon - obviously she’d left them on the night before and she hadn’t gotten up yet to turn them off. He hated to wake her up, but he’d wasted enough time here already.
He looked down at the lists in each hand, and let the list he had made this morning drop, watching it float slowly to the ground. The other list he had made three days ago and almost everything on the list was crossed. A few items were not crossed off yet, and the biggest item, right up there at the top, stood out unmarked, crossed over by a David eager to get things done but shying away from the tough ones:
- TELL AUNT GLORIA
It had been a busy day. The car had been oiled and lubed and checked for problems, both by the guy at Jiffy Lube and by Bernie, David‘s roommate. The apartment he shared with Bernie was mostly packed up, the things he hadn’t already given away to his friends he had either been boxed up to be put into storage or thrown out. He’d hoped to store his extra items with his aunt in her new apartment or, if there wasn’t room, put them into one of those storage places. His bank account had been emptied out and the check from Abe cashed, and the contents placed in a cigar box that now rested comfortably under the driver’s seat of his car. The money would get him across the country and let him live for a while in California before he needed to worry about cash. The rest of the things in his apartment would be going with him, packed into his little car.
He couldn’t put off talking to her any longer, and headed inside.
She didn’t answer the door for a while, and when she finally did, she was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Things were going to be tough for her over the next couple of weeks, David knew.
“Hi, Aunt Gloria. Can we talk?” He smiled as he asked here but his stomach was a tight fist in his gut, queasy and sick. He was going to hurt her - that much couldn’t be helped, he knew that, but he still didn’t want to do it.
She nodded, and he went inside.
The conversation moved in fits and starts, going from pleasantries and David‘s mild questions about her drinking, and slowly moved around to the real reason he was here - and that’s when the shouting started.
“You’re leaving me?!” All of her questions, everything she could think up to throw at him, they all boiled down to those same three words, the question that he didn’t want to have to answer because there was no answer.
“I’m not leaving you, I’m just going away for a while. I don’t even think I’ll stay.” The lie came to him easily and hung in the air between them, quickly beginning to turn old and fester with milliseconds of age, yellowing and curling up around the edges as he hurried to fill the air with something else, something newer. “I’m going to visit Brian, and I’ll be back soon. I just need some time to get away - I’ve never even been out of Liberty for more than a day or two!” They, his aunt and him, had gone to Niagara Falls once for a whole week during the summer break before his sophomore year in high school. She’d been off the sauce for several months and they had had a fairly good time, but even then things were starting to strain between them. Less than three months after they got back, she was back to the bottle full time and he had moved out.
But for a short time, they had enjoyed each other's company, and they had extended their originally-planned weekend trip into a full week. David had never been away for more than a day or two since.
Now Gloria was crying, and she hated herself for it. At first she had thought he was just joking, and then, when she realized that he was serious, she had tried everything in her extensive arsenal to persuade him to change his mind. She tried, but it didn’t take long for her to realize that he had planned this whole thing out and he was going to California, whether she wanted it or not. It struck her like a freight train, the realization that her only family member, a boy that she had raised as she would’ve raised her own son, had grown up and now, he was his own man. And she had missed most of it, drinking and drinking and seeing most of it through a haze of alcohol. Somewhere inside her, she realized that he should’ve left a long time ago. He’d raised himself, she knew suddenly, and it was a miracle that he had hanged around this long.
The conversation ranged again for a while longer, but once he had gotten it all out, David seemed to feel a lot better, a lot calmer. She knew his anger at her was there, simmering just below the surface, as she tried to argue her case even though she was tired and her headache was pounding like a bass drum in her head. She would push and push, trying to convince him to stay, but when she was getting near to angering him, she could sense it and would back off a little - but not much.
Because in the course of this conversation she realized one more thing about her nephew: he had turned out just like his father, the late William T. Beaumont. Short temper, very opinionated, and those fiercely cold green eyes that lent him such a striking resemblance to his father. In the right light, he could look just like the man. Except that David kept everything inside, buried way down and never letting it out.
By the time an hour had passed, she understood that he was leaving. Not long after, he was carrying boxes into her basement - they wouldn’t stay there long, but be moved with the rest of her things to the new apartment or into a storage unit, if it turned out she had too many things and had to arrange for somewhere else to store things. She didn’t help him carry his boxes in but she watched, and when he was done, they talked for a little while longer, but they both knew the hard part was already over. When he finally left, she was smiling and crying a little at the same time.
To David, she looked more awake and alive than he had seen her in a long time.
He was sitting by her bedside, holding one of her thin hands, when the night nurse came in and told him that visiting hours were over. It took him a moment to register that someone was talking to him, and he looked up at the nurse, his eyes bleary and red from tears and lack of sleep.
The nurse, stolid and used to the normal cycle of loss and death that accompany the normal workings of any hospital, felt her stomach do a queasy little slide as the boy looked up at her, his eyes dark and lost, and she suddenly realized how much pain the boy was in.
“You can stay ten more minutes, but if anyone asks, I already told you to leave, okay?” She tried to grin at the boy, but somehow it just didn’t feel right.
The boy, who wasn’t really a boy but much more a man, nodded his grateful thanks at the nurse and one side of his mouth slid up slightly, an expression that look almost like, but not quite, a smile.
The nurse pulled the door closed and moved on down the hall.
Tommy turned back to his fiancée and started talking to her aga
in. “It’s going to be okay. The doctors say you should come out soon. When you do, I’ll be right here. We’ll make it through this, you’ll see. And then we’re get married – we’ve already paid for everything, so you don’t want to let all those people down, right? Sally, can you hear me?”
He didn’t know if she could hear him or not, but it made him feel better to be with her, to be talking to her. He must have been even sleepier than he thought, because for a moment, his eyes must have been playing tricks on him.
He thought he had seen Sally’s face move, ever so slightly. It looked like she had been trying to smile.
Chapter 5 - Wednesday,
September 14
Jack was taking his time moving up the coast. Georgia was behind him and long gone, and late on the afternoon of Wednesday, he meandered through South Carolina, driving through a dozen small towns.
He had gotten off the I-95 just after crossing into South Carolina - it had just seemed like the right thing to do, and he had a long time ago learned to trust his instincts. The traffic had just seemed a little too sparse, and it had made him feel like the van was sticking out like a sore thumb, begging for attention.
So he’d gotten off the freeway and that had greatly slowed down his progress - he didn’t think he would make it to Liberty before the weekend, now. Not that it mattered. Beaumont was dead and would still be dead if Jack got there a couple days later than expected - no hurrying on Jack’s part could bring the old man back, that was for sure! And making sure he got there, safe and sound and without any more entanglements or dealings with cops or the like, that was the best approach.
But the Urge had grown so strong now that he could hardly contain it. It pounded in his head like a killer migraine, and when Jack looked at his haggard and unshaven reflection in the rear view mirror, he could swear he could see the veins pulsing in his forehead. The eager blood pumped through him, hot and craving action and satisfaction, and he did not know how much longer he could go without it.
