More Tomorrow: And Other Stories

by Michael Marshall Smith

  ‘Fuck you.’

  ‘Explain,’ Ng repeated, face twitching, ‘Or I take this very high indeed.’

  Hye looked at him with contempt. ‘I have orders,’ he said, ‘From higher than you know. I have orders to protect the population.’

  ‘Whose orders?’ I said, preparing to pull rank. I have papers for this kind of eventuality, though I’d never had to use them before.

  Hye ignored me. ‘If any animal exists,’ he said to Ng, ‘It will carry disease. The population no longer has immune responses to these diseases.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ Miranda shouted. She sounded a lot tougher than I had. ‘That’s not…’

  ‘The population will be protected.’

  Ng’s face was now only about nine inches from the other officer’s. ‘Who gave you these orders?’

  ‘They were issued on a need to know basis.’

  ‘I don’t believe you, Hye. I don’t believe in these orders. I believe you want to hunt.’

  ‘He’s right,’ Chen said, too calmly. ‘Ng’s right. This fucker wants to be the last hunter. He wants the last trophy. The last head for his wall.’

  ‘It’s off,’ I said. ‘We’re going home.’

  Miranda stared at me. ‘We can’t. I saw something.’

  ‘Maybe. Then there was a firefight and we all started shouting at each other. If there was anything here it’ll be on the moon by now, hiding under a rock. Either way, I’m not finding something for this fucker to shoot it.’

  ‘You’ll find it,’ Hye said, turning to look at me for the first time.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and moved one hand slightly. Silently, ten guns were raised.

  We walked in silence down the first side road. Ng was a few yards behind. His shoulders were set, and he walked by himself. Behind him came the soldiers. Some spoke softly every now and then, and there was the occasional laugh, but mostly they were as silent as before. I hated them, completely, utterly and quietly.

  ‘What did you see?’ Chen asked eventually.

  Miranda sighed. ‘It could have been shadow. It looked as if something moved. About three feet high. That’s all I saw, and I barely saw that.’

  ‘Dog?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  Chen looked at her. I hoped for his sake that she wasn’t mistaken.

  There was nothing to be seen in the side road. We turned at the end and walked back up, then crossed to the other side and did the same. Then we moved down the central strip and did the next road. There was still enough light to see without artificial aid, but I reckoned we only had about another hour.

  Halfway down the next road I turned to find Ng on my shoulder again.

  ‘The light will be gone soon,’ he said.

  ‘It’s over. There’s no way we can traipse through all these buildings in the time. Even if we could, even if there is an animal here, it’s not going to show with ten men with guns padding behind us. I don’t care how quiet they are. Animals could hear things we can’t even imagine.’

  ‘And they could sense things.’ Chen added, not looking up.

  Ng looked at him. ‘You know that?’

  ‘I believe it.’

  Ng nodded, and then dropped back.

  Another five minutes took us up and down the next side street. I felt stupid and impotent. There could be something here, and all we could do was walk around, waiting for it to lollop in front of us. If it existed, which it almost certainly didn’t. For a moment I felt complete despair, and knew in my heart that there were no animals any more. There couldn’t be. They simply wouldn’t fit in this world.

  We turned into the last side street and I heard Miranda sigh. I reached out and took her hand, and she looked at me. There was something wrong tonight, and we all knew it. It felt like it would be the last time we did this. Something about the soldiers behind us, about Hye, about the whole world, said that the gaps were closing for good, that the old dreams had been squeezed out.

  We walked to the end of the road, watching the sidewalks carefully and scanning the buildings, and then we turned. The soldiers, guns still at the ready, echoed our progress, walking to the end of the road and then turning to follow us.

  About twenty yards up the road, Ng scared the life out of me by suddenly speaking from directly behind me again.

  ‘Run into a building on the side. Good luck.’

  I turned. He smiled and nodded us forward.

  Suddenly there was a shout behind us. I tugged Miranda’s hand and gave Chen a shove and we sprinted for the nearest building.

  A shot fizzed off the lintel of the doorway we stumbled through, but we kept on running, weaving through the debris and out the other side.

  ‘What the hell…’

  ‘He’s still alive,’ Chen panted. ‘Three have gone after him. Run. Run.’

  We ran. On impulse I steered us across the main strip and then into a long burnt-out building. The shouts behind weren’t getting any further away, but they were spreading out. They didn’t know where we’d gone. We winced at each hissing shot, but so long as they were still firing, we were still alive. And so, hopefully, was Lieutenant Ng.

  We had to duck out the building and out onto the road, so we crossed quickly and slipped into the row on the other side. By this time we’d begun to double back on ourselves, heading back to the right area. The sound of shots was coming less frequently, and the muted shouts seemed more distant too.

  When we came up against the next intact wall Chen halted abruptly. ‘Have to stop a second.’

  I glanced round, and then stopped too. My chest was aching and Miranda was barely on her feet. Realising I was still holding her hand, I let go of it.

  ‘A minute, then walk. We have to keep moving.’

  They nodded wearily at me being right again.

  ‘Ng. Why?’ Miranda panted, pulling the back of her hand across her forehead.

  ‘Because he wanted to,’ Chen said. ‘He wasn’t one of them. He knew what we were here for.’

  ‘I hope he’s alright.’

  Chen looked at me. We knew he wouldn’t be.

  A shout echoed in the street outside, still the other side of the strip, but nearer.

  ‘Time to move.’

  I poked my head out. The street was clear, and we slipped round into the next section of the building. We could only get a few yards, then had to cross to the other side. As Chen checked the street Miranda turned to me.

  ‘What are we going to do? I mean, do we stay, or what? Are we still looking?’

  ‘I don’t know. Chen, is it clear?’

  ‘We’ve got to look,’ Miranda said desperately. ‘We have to. That’s why Ng did this…’

  ‘Miranda, they’ll kill us if they find us. Chen, is it clear, or what?’

  Chen was standing with his head and shoulder poking out into the street. He was absolutely motionless.

  ‘Chen?’

  He half-turned his face towards us then, but his eyes didn’t move. Miranda and I soundlessly took a step towards him and looked out into the street.

  It was nearly dark now, as dark as it ever gets on a planet with a hundred trillion light bulbs. The street outside was deserted. The soldiers had evidently regrouped, and were no longer making any noise. They were trained men, and they were setting about finding us as they’d been trained to do. Quietly, efficiently and terminally. If anything, the silence meant we were in even more danger. But that wasn’t important. Sitting in the middle of the road was a cat.

  I’ve seen countless photographs of cats. I’ve probably looked at more images of them than any man alive. But as I stood and stared I didn’t see the photos or reference books. I saw exactly what my grandmother saw.

  It was an animal, about a foot or so high, covered in fur and with green eyes that caught the remains of the light. I looked, and I saw it wasn’t human.

  ‘Oh God,’ Miranda moaned, ‘Oh dear god.’

  She was crying. I was too, I discovered. Chen just
looked, and looked. He’d known. I don’t know whether he saw that primate years ago, and I don’t think it matters. He’d just known.

  The cat looked back at us, and then glanced down the road. I looked too, but there was nothing there. The soldiers were creeping towards us from some other angle. The first we’d know would be the last we’d know. I didn’t care.

  Miranda caught her breath as the cat stood up, turned round, and walked about a yard away from us. No, I thought. Please. Not yet. The cat looked at us again. Chen straightened up and stepped out into the road.

  ‘Chen, what are you doing? You’ll frighten it.’

  ‘Come on,’ he said, without looking round.

  We stepped out into the road. The cat walked slowly across it. We followed, and it didn’t seem to mind. Instead of going straight across, its path curved up towards the left, and I smiled, remembering old stories once more.

  When it reached the other side the cat clambered up onto a doorstep, turned to us for a moment, and then vanished into the building.

  We looked at each other, and followed, eyes locked. This was going to end soon. It had to.

  The building was a shell, about twenty yards deep. The cat wandered into the centre of the floor and sat again. We stood in front of it. It didn’t mind us. Chen crouched in front of it. There was a soft sound from out of the shadows, and suddenly there were two. The cats looked this way and that, and one of them raised a paw to lick it briefly.

  We had cameras. We had video. We didn’t use them.

  ‘Oh,’ Chen said.

  From the shadows behind the cats came a shape. It was about three feet high, and it stood on two legs. Its body was covered in dark brown fur, apart from around the face, and its arms were surprisingly long. It ambled drunkenly across the room, reeled around the cats, and then came and stood in front of Chen. With Chen hunkered down they were about the same height, and could look each other in the face. The animal stretched out a hand, and then plopped it on Chen’s head. It was a chimpanzee.

  Chen let the chimp rootle round in his hair and pull his nose, and I watched, darting my gaze over to the cats every ten seconds or so. I put out my hand to Miranda.

  She wasn’t there. She was standing a couple of yards away, looking in a different direction. About a car length from her stood a white horse. Behind it was something I think was a rabbit.

  ‘Chen,’ I said.

  He came over, accompanied by the chimp, who seemed to be mimicking the way Chen walked. Or maybe Chen had always walked like a chimp, and I’d never known.

  Behind the rabbit there was a small clump of squirrels, rolling in the dust and swiping at each other. We walked past them, because we could see that in the gloom there were others. We went another few yards, and then stopped.

  The horse was joined by another, and the pair moved aside to let a pair of small dogs wander through. There was a noise up above and we looked to see a small pack of monkeys larking around, turning and rolling over the remains of a steel support. A gorilla sat against the wall, watching a group of rats who were beetling towards him. When they reached his feet they sniffed, seemed to confer and reach a decision of some kind, and immediately set off in another direction. Two long necks swayed and a pair of giraffes walked slowly around in a large circle, followed by a sheep. Miranda squawked when something touched her neck, and we turned to see it was the trunk of an elephant.

  There were more, some whose names I didn’t even know. Chen might have, but I didn’t ask. None of us spoke. We just walked round the cavernous interior of the building, surprised at every turn by something new.

  Still they milled around us, and they were all different, and they were all alive.

  Eventually we came to a halt in the centre, surrounded. We’d come looking for an animal, however small, however final. And here we were in an abandoned building, in the midst of about a hundred.

  There was a shout outside, and the sound of a shot. We ducked unthinkingly, but none of the animals even flinched. The first cat reappeared by my feet, and started to walk towards a door in the outside wall.

  ‘No,’ I said urgently. ‘No.’

  It turned to look at us, then continued on its way, threading between the other animals.

  We followed. The street seemed light after the building, and thirty yards away we saw a body crumpled in the middle of the road. It was Ng. He was dead. The soldiers were advancing from the other side of the strip, ten abreast, right across the road.

  The cat stopped in the middle of the street, and we stopped behind it.

  There was a sound, and we turned to see one of the horses stepping out into the road. It was followed by a dog, and then by the monkeys. They walked out into the centre of the road. Then they started to head down towards the main strip, towards the soldiers.

  ‘Don’t.’

  But they all came out, in pairs, in packs. The giraffes and the rats, several rabbits and four wolves. They all came out, and walked down the road without a sound. The road was full, almost crowded, as rank after rank of animals marched down the street. When the first of them reached the crossroads, the soldiers were already there.

  But the soldiers didn’t see them.

  They just kept slowly advancing, and the animals slipped between the gaps. The further away the creatures got, the harder it became to see them. They became translucent, like ghosts. But they weren’t. They were there. The soldiers simply couldn’t see them, and the animals wandered past like a mist. I saw Hye in the centre of the road, glaring impatiently around. He looked past goats and cats, horses and rhinos. A giraffe seemed to walk right through him. He couldn’t see it.

  Eventually the stream of animals began to thin out, and we knew it was nearly over. Chen’s chimp took a step forward, and I saw he was still holding Chen’s hand.

  Chen didn’t hesitate. He nodded at me, smiled at Miranda, and then he walked off down the road, a dog to one side and a rabbit following up behind. He passed Hye without even looking at him. Maybe by then he was seeing something different.

  As the soldiers drew to a halt, confused at the emptiness around them, the first cat stood up. I bent down to it, and I tickled it behind the ears. I stroked its back and I rubbed its chin, and it made its sound for me.

  Then it walked off down the road, tail erect. There would be no retreat. It stopped by Ng’s body and looked back at us, and then it disappeared off up the street.

  We surrendered, to soldiers who seemed quiet and withdrawn and didn’t meet our eyes. Some fever had passed, and Hye and his men escorted us back out of the sector with distant civility, though he must have known I would report what had happened. I don’t know if any action was taken. As always, I suspect they have bigger problems on their minds down there.

  Miranda went back to PsychStat two days later. I see her occasionally. Not often. Our paths don’t cross, and I spend most of my time painting now. I’m not very good, it has to be said, but I’m working at it. Maybe in time I’ll be able to show what the photographs can’t.

  I live in what used to be the office. That’s all over. It’s finished. I don’t have to look any more.

  I know.

  The animals are still here. They always have been, and they always will be. They just won’t ever let us see them again.

  Or maybe that’s wrong. Perhaps they’re still in the world, and it’s us who are somewhere else.

  Maybe it was us who died.

  Charms

  Once she reached the high street, Carol’s walk slowed. She took a few deep breaths and shrugged her shoulders to dislodge some of the tenseness, making slow fists of her hands and releasing them quickly, as if trying to flick off insects. The street was crowded in the sunshine, and she threaded her way down the wide pavement, wondering where to go. She had no reason to be in town, and before her parents had started arguing had been looking forward to a desultory afternoon at their house.

  Then something had happened.

  Nothing unusual; the same old thing
. Whatever it was.

  She always missed it, somehow, the actual moment when things turned sour. Most of the time being at home was like wading in a stream of warm flowing water, comforting and secure. She knew the history of everything in every room, and the spaces were secure, dependable. So too her parents: Mother would potter about in the kitchen, asking her how she was, what she was doing; Father would read the paper and listen to her answers while mother pounced in with another question.

  Then the warmth would be gone, as if Carol had carelessly stepped into a deep cavity filled with icy water. Suddenly the air was taut with the unspoken, and the objects in the room seemed to stand isolated with an unpleasant starkness, cut adrift from each other, as what her parents said to each other started to take on cutting subtexts. Until she’d left home Carol had subconsciously blamed her father, probably because it was always him who ended up storming out of the room. Distance had helped her see that her mother was at least as much to blame.

  She’d left the house fifteen minutes after stepping into the cold. By that time mother was furiously cooking unnecessary brownies, and father was in his study. As she walked down the drive Carol winced at the music coming loudly from the window. The arguments always ended in the same way—with her mother burying herself in trivia, and her father in his study, sitting bolt upright in his chair and listening to his old 45s. Early Beatles, Stones. Other bands whose names fate hadn’t blessed with memorability. Carol had never been able to hear those songs with pleasure and always flinched when they came on at parties. They were irretrievably associated with suddenly finding herself in a wasteland, lost between two warring factions whose feelings and grievances she had never understood.

  Everyone in the high street seemed to have somewhere to go, urgent tasks to perform. A glance at their faces showed they weren’t even seeing the high street, just running breathlessly on rails. Carol felt strangely dislocated, in a town that was no longer hers, wandering aimlessly among projectile people as they ricocheted from car to shop to shop to car. At last a task occurred to her, and she crossed the street and headed for Tony’s Records. It was her mother’s birthday in a couple of weeks, and she might not get a chance for a leisurely shop again before then. She could probably find something in the record store her mother would like, though she’d have to be diplomatic about giving it to her.