Before We Die Alone

by Ike Hamill

  When it splits into two, I stop. The planet is coming right at me.

  I tilt my head and try to puzzle it out. I know there’s a simple answer to this riddle. What kind of planet rises in the east at night and splits into two while it heads right for me?

  This is simple.

  My ears pick up the sound of the engine and then I feel stupid.

  It’s not a planet. It’s a car!

  I look at my feet. I should move to the center of the road, so they don’t miss me. Or I should run into the desert and hide. Wait—why would I do that? Even if the odds are fifty-fifty that the car-people will be bad people—and I have no reason to believe that—the odds are one-hundred percent in favor of me dying if I hide.

  I move into the road and stand there.

  The car’s high-beams switch to low. That’s good. I think they see me.

  The engine sound diminishes and the car rolls to a stop.

  The door opens.

  I have my arm up to block the headlights.

  I can’t see the face that calls to me.

  “Get in.”

  It’s my brother.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  * Rescue *

  I GO TO THE opposite door and pull the handle with numb fingers. I collapse into the seat and take the bottle of water he offers.

  “Just sip,” he says.

  There’s no danger of me gulping. My sticky mouth will only open far enough for me to dribble water in.

  He turns the car around and accelerates into the night. I watch the lines of the road flash by as my senses return. It’s amazing to travel this fast after walking for so long. The world spins when I close my eyes. I keep them open enough just to nail everything in place.

  “Whose?” I ask.

  “There’s a ranch up the road on the right,” he says. “I managed to convince him to loan me his daughter’s car so I could come look for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  My brother, whom I condemned to death by typing in the wrong code, came back for me.

  “Why did you leave the road?” he asks.

  “Huh?”

  “I went back and forth over that same stretch for hours. You weren’t there. You must have left the road and then come back to it.”

  Did I? Walking through the desert rings a bell. Did I do that? I take a little more water. I’m hoping that it will lubricate my memories a little so I can remember what happened. What was the question? If it’s important, I’m sure he’ll ask again.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  Am I?

  “We’ll take the car back to the rancher’s house. My wife will come pick us up there.”

  Wife?

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  ---- * ----

  After some negotiation, I’m installed on a bench that sits on the rancher’s porch. The rancher thinks I should be taken inside, but my brother insists that I might become nauseous from the water. The night is alive with sound. The ranch is an oasis of life in this desert. Animals roam the fields, and kick against the walls of the barn. Through the window, I can see my brother sitting at the rancher’s table. They’re leaning in close to discuss something.

  Headlights sweep across the barn. The animals wander off to somewhere more private. I lean back and tap on the glass to alert my brother.

  The woman gets out of the car. She’s younger than my brother. She has a bright smile.

  “Hey there,” she says. Her Australian accent is unadulterated. “I recognize you from your picture.”

  She puts out her hand and I grasp it briefly. I’m halfway between standing and sitting.

  “Picture?” I ask.

  “I’m Emily. Your sister-in-law, I suppose. Nice to meet you.”

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Where’s Arthur?”

  Who?

  My brother comes through the door, trailed by the rancher. Emily takes the stairs and gives my brother a quick half of a hug.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asks.

  “Looking for him,” my brother says, pointing at me. “I’ll have to explain later. It’s a long story.”

  They exchange pleasantries and then goodbyes with the rancher. I’m herded towards the backseat of the car. Emily drives.

  Emily reaches over the seat as she turns onto the road. She fumbles with a bag on the seat next to me and her hand emerges with a dark shape that she presses into my hands. With some investigation, I discover that it’s a sandwich.

  “Eat that,” she says.

  “Be careful,” my brother says. “Don’t eat too much or you’ll start throwing up.”

  “Nonsense,” she says.

  I choose her advice over his because my stomach is rumbling. The sandwich lands like lead, but a warm feeling begins to flow through me. The pleasant heat lulls me to sleep.

  ---- * ----

  When I wake up, it’s because we’re slowing down in a suburban neighborhood. The houses are small, evenly-spaced, and tidy. Emily pulls into the driveway of a house that’s catching the first of the morning sun. The garage door rolls up when my brother hits the button.

  “Go back to bed, honey,” my brother says. “I’ll take him wherever he wants to go.”

  “Don’t be silly. He’ll stay here.”

  “I’m sure he has somewhere else to be,” my brother says. He turns in his seat to address me, but Emily interrupts.

  “You’ve been out all night. I’m sure he wants to rest up before he has to go right back out in the car,” Emily says.

  My brother ignores her. “Where are you staying?”

  “Honestly? I don’t uh…” I don’t even know what to say. It’s such an odd story.

  “Would you like to stay here?” Emily asks.

  My brother must see the confusion in my eyes.

  “Yes,” my brother says. “He’ll stay here.”

  ---- * ----

  They set me up in a little bedroom. It seems like it’s somewhere between a teenager’s room and a guest room. There are a few personal items, but not enough to make it seem lived-in. It’s a mystery. I hope the explanation isn’t some sort of tragedy.

  I fall asleep instantly.

  When I emerge—driven by a need for the bathroom more than feeling rested—my brother is cooking eggs. I shuffle out there in my borrowed shirt and shorts.

  “I was about to go check on you,” he says.

  They have an island in their kitchen. I take one of the stools so I can watch him cook.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asks.

  “So far. Listen—thanks for coming back for me.”

  “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Like you said, it’s not like I did you a whole lot of favors,” I say.

  He waves the spatula in a dismissive circle and shrugs. “Like you said, you thought you were saving the world.” He gives me a little dry laugh, to let me know it’s okay. I do my best to join in, but my laugh sounds as forced as it feels.

  “More than that,” I say, once I’ve got my nerve. “I’m sorry about the last time we talked. The argument?”

  “Argument?” he asks, smiling. The laugh that follows is a big belly laugh. “Argument?” He sounds even more Australian than before. “You nearly cut my head off. I barely made it to the hospital.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  He studies me for a second and then shakes his head.

  “Water under the bridge, brother. Long forgotten.”

  “That’s big of you. Thank you,” I say.

  “We were all fucked up back then. You were right in thinking that I didn’t give a shit about Dad. And you were right that I eventually regretted it. You have to forgive family, right?”

  “Yeah. I suppose,” I say. I don’t know if he’s still talking about me, or if he’s talking about Dad. I still haven’t forgiven Dad. Good for him if he has. “What did you say to your wife about what happened?”

  “She gets it,” he says.
He dishes some scrambled eggs onto a plate and sets them down in front of me. They look great. Then again, I’m so hungry that the eggs still in the shell would have been fine. “Day before yesterday, I got a call saying you were in trouble. I told her that I didn’t know how long I would be gone. I didn’t say anything about having a sword pressed to my throat. She doesn’t need to know about that.”

  I nod.

  Toast pops up and he juggles it over to my plate. I thank him with a grunt and a nod. The butter is soft and melts deep into the toast. It tastes like heaven. My brother fixes his own plate and holds it stomach-level while he leans back against the sink.

  “In the car you said that you didn’t know where you were staying,” he says. “Did you remember yet?”

  “No,” I say with a sad smile. “I really wasn’t staying anywhere. I was a prisoner of a company called ProNavitas.”

  “But where were you before that?”

  “New York?”

  His fork stops halfway to his mouth. “Why did you come to Australia?”

  “I didn’t. I mean, they brought me here. ProNavitas.” I leave out the part about the space travel and the bears.

  “Where are your clothes? Your passport?”

  “I never had a passport. I didn’t bring any clothes.”

  “That’s crazy,” he says. “You’re saying you were kidnapped from the US all the way to here? For what?”

  “To work on their project,” I say. “It’s really quite dangerous stuff. That’s why they had to kidnap me to get me to work on it.”

  “Sounds like our next stop should be the cops,” he says.

  “Maybe,” I say. He waits for an explanation. “I’m not sure my story would have much credibility. I might be better off just cutting my losses and getting out of here.”

  “You said it’s dangerous stuff. You talked about it being dangerous to the whole planet and everything.”

  “The universe, really,” I say.

  “And you don’t think that warrants calling the cops?”

  “I don’t think the police would think they’re doing anything wrong. They’re just researching a new type of energy, as far anyone knows. Only the bears seem to think there’s a real danger.”

  I look up to see if he caught that. I didn’t mean to mention bears, but I just did. If he noticed, he doesn’t mention it.

  “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but those people seem like bastards to me. I’m not a big fan of them, and it seems like you should do what you can to bring them down.”

  I set my fork down. The breakfast tastes great, but it’s sitting heavy now.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t know what anything means. I’ve seen too many unbelievable things. Too many coincidences. Too many strange twists. I just want to go home to live a normal life for however long it lasts.”

  My brother nods. “I understand. I cleaned your clothes. They’re in the laundry room. I have the day off. Take your time and get ready. I’ll take you to the embassy. Meanwhile, you had better come up with some kind of story about how you got here without a passport or visa.”

  It’s another mountain to summit. Another hurdle to clear. But then, home. Home, where I share a block with the home office of puzzleBox. Home, where my neighbor is a planet-jumping outlaw. Will I really be happy there, or am I simply feeling nostalgic for the last place I didn’t feel threatened? To truly go back there—not just the place, but the way of life—I would have to really resolve all this nonsense.

  “Do you know where it is?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “ProNavitas?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  * Assault *

  I DON’T HAVE A plan.

  I only want some sort of resolution. My brother, following my request, is away before I get to the tall glass door. There’s one man at the reception desk. I walk across the cool lobby until I’m standing in front of him.

  He raises his eyebrows. “May I help you?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I need to see Janice Engel.”

  He doesn’t consult a computer, or directory, or list. It would have been more convincing if he had. He maintains eye contact with me during my question and then immediately answers.

  “We don’t have an employee with that name,” he says.

  “Okay, sure,” I say. “She works on lower-level three. Just tell her I’m here, would you?”

  “Sir, there is no lower-level three.”

  “Right. Of course. Never mind the weeks or months I spent down there. You were probably one of the men who blindfolded me and walked me out of here. Listen, buddy, call Janice Engel and I’ll have a little conversation and I’ll go away. She won’t be mad at you. You won’t get into any trouble. The trouble is going to come if you keep parroting the company line. I’ve documented everything I know about this place, and that document goes to the Feds unless I stop it.”

  He picks up the phone.

  “That’s better.”

  He turns away from me as he starts talking. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but I start to get an idea when he cuts his eyes towards me. This is trouble. Down the shiny wall, the elevator dings its arrival. On the monitor next to the guard, I see a little security car pulling up out front. This is trouble.

  I turn from the guard. And start walking towards the elevators.

  “Sir!” he calls. I don’t look back.

  The elevator doors begin to open and I rush by and press my back to the wall on the far side. A guard emerges and turns immediately for the desk, where the first guard is coming around the counter to pursue me. I slip through the elevator doors as they begin to close. The guard at the desk is pointing towards me. The guard who just got off the elevator—not the most observant person in the world—is just starting to realize something is up.

  I turn to go for the buttons.

  I run into a wall of fur.

  Of course—my nose should have alerted me. The bear is there. We’re alone in the tight box. He gives me no room to move as he reaches a claw up and presses a button. “Going down?”

  We don’t stop at LL3. The elevator descends below it. The ding for LL4 goes off.

  “I just want to talk,” I say. “I want one more chance to convince you guys that this is a dangerous mistake.”

  “Why?” the bear asks.

  “Why? Because it’s difficult to continue on with a normal life when there’s a sense that the entire universe could explode at any second. It’s like trying to take a nap on the deck of a sinking ship.”

  “That’s life,” the bear says. “The ship is always sailing, and it’s always sinking. There’s nothing you can do to stop it.”

  “There’s a big difference between the chance of a catastrophe, and a looming one that’s in plain view.”

  The doors open. We step out. The room is beyond enormous—this is why there was so much time between the ding for LL4 and our arrival at LL5. Steel arches hold back the dirt above us. I’m guessing that I could stack a half-dozen houses the size of my brother’s in here and not even reach the ceiling. As my eyes dance around the space, my brain is frantically trying to reinvent its notion of scope.

  I’m too stunned to even say anything.

  Why would they excavate a room so huge, and then put so little in it?

  At the far end, almost lost in the blue haze, I see a flashing yellow light.

  The bear drops to all fours and starts walking.

  “What is this?” I ask.

  The bear stops and turns his head. “This is the thing you’re so afraid of.”

  ---- * ----

  I follow the bear. After all my walking of the day before, my feet begin to protest almost immediately. Little spasms fire up and down my legs as we cover the distance. The bear gives no explanation of where we’re going. There must be some connection between this place and the software that I was writing on LL3.

  Above where I’m walking, I worked in a cubicle, producing softwa
re for control systems and matrix manipulation algorithms that were envisioned by the physicists. Nothing up there suggested the need for a giant open space. Then again, I was never one-hundred percent clear on the physical aspect of the power generation scheme. It was all just numbers in an unbalanced equation, where the remainders were summed and harvested.

  I look up.

  I read somewhere that astronauts see flashes of light caused by cosmic rays. On Earth, we’re shielded from these by the planet’s magnetosphere. In space, there’s no limit to the strange things one might see.

  Perhaps that is what is at play here.

  Above, I see a swirl of purple color surrounding a red center. It’s like a huge movie projected on an invisible screen that I can only see because I’m finally passing far enough under it. It swirls like a tornado. A few steps later, it disappears. I stop and back up. The phenomenon is only visible from certain angles.

  “What is that?” I ask the bear.

  He glances back, but keeps moving.

  “It’s an optical illusion,” he says. “Apparently, it’s one of the side effects.”

  “Apparently?”

  “We’re still working on the containment. Maybe the visual stuff will go away once everything is properly contained.”

  “Properly contained? What?”

  He stops and turns. When I catch up, he walks alongside me. “You were working on all the Track One tasks. There was another team working on Track Two. That’s where all the containment algorithms were being developed. They’re still working on the final reviews and bug-fixes. That’s why we’re capable, but not online yet.”

  “That’s insane. Why wouldn’t you make sure all the containment was up to snuff before you flipped the switches? The thing was eighty-percent active the last time I saw it. Why would you possibly let it run that hot before you had fixed all the containment bugs?”

  The bear tosses his head in a “why not” gesture. “You have to prove that the thing is going to work eventually. There’s no reward without risk.”