by Sean Platt
Ed rushed her outside into the cold night air and then into the waiting truck, where Sullivan was waiting in the driver’s seat. She took one last look back at the garden she’d been watering regularly for exactly one week, and the neat row of plants she nurtured to health beneath the warm sun, and felt it — along with her newfound life — slipping through her fingers.
Her dirt road street, shared by 11 other homes, was lined with black carts and bobbing lights as Guardsmen with face masks, flashlights, and weapons scrambled from house to house making sure everyone had pulled their shutters down and barred their doors.
The sirens’ wail was louder outside, turning Becca’s cry into a terrified pitch.
“We’ve got it, sir,” one of the Guardsmen said to Ed from behind a speaker’s crackle as they passed on their way to the truck.
Teagan climbed into the back seat with Becca, then quickly shut the door to muffle the siren and calm her baby. She rocked Becca in her arms, whispering in her ear, “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s got you. It’s okay.”
“What’s the status?” Ed asked, climbing into the front seat and slamming the door as Sullivan tore away from their house.
Teagan looked back to see Guardsmen pulling thick, black, metal shutters down over their windows and doors, sealing the house from God only knew what.
“Subjects 7XY and 17XZ were missing from their cells when the guards checked on the hour. Video screens for both cells went black for a one-minute period about 10 minutes prior, at the same exact time. They were in their cells one minute. But after the screens went black, they were gone. There’s no registered activity on the security logs or door logins, until they appeared outside the compound about five minutes after they were reported missing. They were last detected on the north side, but could be anywhere by now.”
“How the hell did this happen?”
“We think Dr. Williams has something to do with it. He’s not answering his communicator, and people said he was acting weird all day.”
“Has anyone told Will Bishop?”
“That’s the other thing,” Sullivan said. “We can’t find him. No one has seen him all day or night. Not that that’s unusual, given the circumstances, but when I phoned him to report what happened, there wasn’t any answer. I went to his house, and he was gone.”
“And surveillance?”
“You know he disabled his surveillance a while ago.”
“Oh yeah,” Ed said.
Teagan wanted to lean forward and ask what was happening, but figured it would be better to keep quiet, concentrate on making sure Becca stayed in her silence as she tried piecing the puzzle together from the relative safety of the back seat. Plus, Ed seemed visibly shaken by what Sullivan was saying. Asking him questions he probably wasn’t prepared to answer was sure to only make things worse.
They passed another road where a second row of houses was being shuttered. From what Teagan could tell, nobody else was being brought to the Facility, which meant the others were expected to ride out the mystery threat from inside their shuttered houses.
“Where’s the sphere?” Ed said.
Sullivan reached into the glove compartment, keeping one hand on the wheel as he navigated the quiet, dark, dirt road, and retrieved a dark, glass orb, about half the size of a tennis ball. The sphere glowed with a red luminescence as it passed from one man’s hand to the next, sending an unexplainable shiver down Teagan’s spine.
“What’s that?” she asked as Ed slipped the sphere inside his jacket pocket, as if to shield it from her view immediately.
“Nothing to worry about,” he said, then turned to Sullivan. “I want you to bring them to my room, and station two guards outside until I return. Make sure you’re underground in case I have to use this.”
“OK,” Sullivan said.
“Use what?” Teagan asked again, not liking the finality in Ed’s “in case I have to use this,” as though it were the sort of last resort that meant he wouldn’t be coming home.
Teagan met Ed’s eyes, and was about to insist he tell her what the sphere was, but something in his stare begged her not to ask — she wouldn’t like the answer, and he didn’t want to lie.
Ed said to Sullivan, “I’m going to go find Will.”
“What about the doc? What do we do?”
“Shoot him on sight.”
They pulled up to the Facility’s hangar and stopped the truck just past two Guardsmen. Sullivan got out first, then opened Teagan’s door. She climbed from the truck with Becca, who had stopped crying on the ride.
Ed kissed Becca on the head and Teagan on the mouth.
“Don’t worry,” he promised, “everything will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Ed nodded, giving them each one more kiss. “I love you both.”
He climbed back inside the truck, then left Teagan standing beside Sullivan in the hangar’s interior. She couldn’t move as tears began to flood her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Sullivan asked, leading Teagan toward the doors and into the Facility.
“He’s never told me he loved me before,” she said.
Teagan couldn’t finish the second half of her thought — the part that was tearing through her heart.
He’s never coming back.
Twenty-Seven
Boricio Bishop
Black Island Research Facility
Black Island, New York
Other Earth
Aug. 22
TWO MONTHS BEFORE THE EVENT …
Boricio sat at Rose’s bedside, hating the guard standing on the other side of the door. Not that it was the guard’s fault for being there; he wasn’t the one who had restricted Boricio’s access to Level 7. But still, it was a special sort of bullshit that Boricio was only allowed to hear the breath that kept his heart beating with an armed guard on the other side of the door.
Boricio stared at Rose sleeping, her chest rising and falling like a flatline with rhythm. He pulled her hands into his and squeezed, biting his bottom lip hard to keep from crying.
Boricio remembered the time they’d spent an entire rainy Saturday afternoon cozied up on a comfy sofa in a trendy bookstore a month after they started dating.
Rose’s friend Annabel had warned her against spending too much time with Boricio, whom Annabel had not yet met. “That man clearly has an agenda,” she said.
Boricio laughed. “Of course, I have an agenda!” he had said. “What sort of fool flies through the forest without a map? That’s called wandering, Rose. And I don’t like to wander. You can’t get to your best life when you spend your time wandering. Know what you want, then know what you’re willing to give up to get it. That’s the recipe for the best possible life. That’s my recipe, and an agenda worth having.”
Rose smiled, then laughed and said, “I love your agenda, Boricio.”
She always smacked her lips when she said his name, like she was tasting it for the first time. After a long second, screaming its silence in his memory’s eternity, Rose added, “And I love you.” It was the first time she had said it, and Boricio didn’t waste a second before he said it right back.
“I love you, too, Rose.”
She said, “You’ve never said that before, have you?”
Boricio wasn’t sure how she knew, she just did. Like she always seemed to know stuff about him that he’d not yet given breath.
“Not to a girl.” Boricio shook his head. “Just to Will and Luca, and only when they say it first.”
She rose from the chair beside him, set the copy of Twilight she was reading to “see what the big deal was all about” on the small table in front of them, then sat on Boricio’s lap. “Let’s stay here the rest of the night,” she said.
“Okay, Rose.” He leaned into the back of the couch, then pulled her to his chest and lightly stroked her hair. The rest of the night ended up being nearly 20 minutes. Another 20 minutes after that and the pair of them were spending the remainder of their day in
bed.
Boricio blinked his eyes at Rose, now a shadow of her former self; the tender memory fueling his anger, both at life and at Will. He had to speak with Dr. Williams. Williams would see reason, and that reason would lay the first bricks for the road to Rose’s eventual full recovery.
But how in the hell was Boricio going to get to Williams?
He considered stealing an access badge to come back later, but that was stupid. Boricio had a working badge before he threw it on Will’s desk, but that didn’t change the palm problem. It wasn’t like Boricio could cut off someone’s hand.
He could make up an emergency, perhaps trick Will into getting him onto the floor. Even if that managed to work, it would only show Will the cards he intended to play.
Boricio got an idea that turned his face into a sudden, wide smile. He stood from his chair, kissed Rose on the cheek, then went into the bathroom and hoisted himself onto the toilet, pulling keys from his pocket and unscrewing the four tiny screws in the corners of the air vent.
Boricio removed the grate, set it down gently on the floor, and then hoisted himself up and began crawling through the metal network of air ducts on his way to Dr. Williams’ office, four doors down from the bathroom.
When Boricio reached the vent in Williams’ office, he pulled back his arm and thrust the flat of his hand flush against the grate, popping it from the wall and launching it onto Williams’ office floor.
The doctor leapt from his desk, clearly startled as he stood staring at the wall and Boricio climbing from nowhere. He reached for the phone. Boricio said, “Wait, Doc! Just one second, please. Hear me out before your fingers finish the dialies.” He dropped to the carpet. “I know of a way we can change the future together.”
A bit dramatic perhaps, but it got the good doc’s hands to hover somewhere other than above the receiver.
“What do you want, Boricio?” Dr. Williams said. “You’re not supposed to be here. The fact that you are, and that you came in through the vent,” he pointed up at the wall, then down at the busted grate, “is making me uncomfortable.”
“Well, Doc,” Boricio said, “I’m only not supposed to be here because Will’s served up a special sort of bullshit for the both of us. I’ve done nothing wrong. And the only reason he doesn’t want me on Level 7 is because he doesn’t want me talking to you. So, this right here,” he pointed at the grate on the ground, “is as bad as it’s gonna get.”
“Make it quick.”
Boricio said, “Thanks, Dr. Williams, I will. And I appreciate it.” He walked from the wall to the doctor’s desk, but didn’t sit. He stood, looking Williams right in the eyes instead. “I think we should use the vials on Rose.”
“That’s what I thought you were going to say.” The doctor shook his head. “But that’s not possible, Boricio. I simply cannot agree to do that.”
“Of course, you can!” Boricio cried. “You’re the only one who can. He’ll listen to you. It’s me Will has a problem with. He trusts you, Dr. Williams, and your judgment. Will won’t listen to me, because he thinks I’m blinded by my allegiance to Rose, which maybe I am, but that doesn’t change the facts, or why you should care. The vials work, Doc. And they’ll work on Rose like they worked on Luca. All we have to do is try.”
Williams was looking everywhere but at Boricio. When he finally looked at him, he said, “I won’t go over Will’s head.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Boricio said, growing impatient. “I’m only asking that you ask Will. If we pitch from your lips instead of mine, we might get the ball over the fence.”
Dr. Williams shook his head. “He’ll never agree.”
“Please,” Boricio begged. “Please just try. Don’t let Rose live like this. She deserves more. Hell man, I deserve more. The vials worked with Luca; they’ll work with Rose, too.” Boricio repeated himself in case he’d been speaking Chinese the first time.
“Rose has been through enough,” Dr. Williams said. “Will won’t put her in any more jeopardy.”
“How much worse can it get? She’s in constant pain, and her memory is getting even worse!”
The doctor shrugged. “It’s too soon to gauge her recovery, Boricio. Things like this take time, and it’s too soon to throw in the towel on her chances. I’m not sure how much you know, or what I’m allowed to say, but I can tell you that something is happening with Luca — something we don’t understand. Something directly related to the vials. There’s no way Will is going to risk us using it on another person.”
Boricio’s growing anger went to worry. “Luca? Is he okay?” Boricio only gave Williams a second to speak before the anger returned and he growled, “What’s happening, and why don’t I know?”
“You’ll have to ask your father.”
“You’ve gotta give me something,” Boricio insisted. “There must be something in Luca’s folder that you could tell his older brother.”
Dr. Williams sighed, swallowed, paused, then said, “Luca’s abilities are rapidly increasing, Boricio. And appear to be growing unstable.” He shook his head, though it looked to Boricio like he wanted to say more. But he didn’t. Just, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
Boricio scowled, said, “Fine,” then turned his back to Dr. Williams and climbed back into the air vent, leaving the grate on the doctor’s carpet. He crawled back to Rose’s bathroom, dropped onto the floor, replaced the vent, and then returned to her bedside.
“I’ll figure this out, baby,” Boricio whispered in her ear. His lips lingered on her cheeks in a long farewell before he left the room.
The guard outside turned to Boricio. “I didn’t expect you to be in there for half a year.”
“Yeah,” Boricio said. “Sorry about that. I had to make a grunt sculpture. Hope you don’t need to use the bathroom before we head back.” Boricio waved his hand in front of his nose, while the guard soured his face as if he could smell what wasn’t really there.
Boricio swallowed, then followed the guard down the long hall, scared for Luca, and terrified that the drop of hope waiting like dew on his Rose had just evaporated under an angry sun of nothing.
Twenty-Eight
Charlie Wilkens
Charlie turned to Imaginary Boricio, who was standing beside him, shrugging his shoulders.
“You can see him?” Charlie asked the yellow hazmat-suited Boricio. “I thought he was in my head!”
“He is in your head. But I can see in there.”
“What kinda voodoo hoodoo French fried vanilla fuck shake is this?” Imaginary Boricio said. “Can you see this, ya fuck?” Boricio asked, giving hazmat-suit Boricio the only finger that mattered.
If he could see the insult, bald Boricio didn’t react.
“How can you read my mind? What are you?” Charlie asked, feeling invaded, and quickly trying to bury his thoughts, though the more he tried to hide things the more his brain wanted to put the sordid images of his memory on full display, like any number of the 2,348 or so times Charlie had jerked off to Internet porn.
Stop it!
Think normal shit!
Imaginary Boricio looked at Charlie with feigned disgust, “Whoa, you are one sick puppy, Downtown Charlie Brown! I thought I was sick, but the red lights in your district are downright nasty!” He laughed.
Fuck you.
“Excuse me?” Hazmat-suit Boricio said.
“No, not you. Fuck, you heard that? Stop! Stay outta my head!”
“I’m sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a side effect . . . Anyway, um, how do you know me? I see all these memories you have of me. But I’ve never met . . . Oh. Shit.”
Hazmat-suit Boricio was staring off into space, looking like he might have just untangled string theory.
“What?” Imaginary Boricio said. “Spit it out, Fucker!”
“What?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” hazmat-suit Boricio shook his head. You’re not from here. You’re from the other Earth. The one wh
ere Luca went.” Then, “Holy shit. . . he did this!”
“The fuck are you talking about, Willis?!” Imaginary Boricio said.
Hazmat-suit Boricio either ignored or didn’t hear his imaginary twin. Perhaps he couldn’t read Charlie’s mind when he was deep in thought himself.
“What are you talking about?” Charlie asked.
“I want you to tell me everything that’s happened since Oct. 15.”
“What? Everything?”
Hazmat-suit Boricio raised his eyebrows. “You got somewhere else to be?”
Charlie filled him in on everything from the moment he woke up in the basement of the cult compound to the moment he woke up in the glass cell.
“Where is this other Boricio now?” hazmat-suit Boricio asked.
“Like I said, we haven’t seen him since we went back to the compound. But he wasn’t there the last time we were.”
“You think he might be there now?”
“I dunno,” Charlie said. Then, “When are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?”
Imaginary Boricio chimed in, “Yeah, we told you our Iliad and our fucking Odyssey, so start gettin’ chatty, Kathy!”
“On Oct. 15, so far as we know, almost everyone on this planet died or vanished in an instant. A few were spared, for reasons we still don’t know. But everyone else, dead. At least, I thought the people still here had been spared, anyway, but now I’m wondering if he didn’t pull a bunch of you all over somehow.”
Charlie wasn’t sure he believed a word this Boricio was saying, though he had no reason to doubt him, not with everything else he’d seen. It made a hell of a lot more sense than any theories he’d come up with on his own.
“How? Why?” were the only words Charlie could think to ask as he continued to process Boricio’s words. “Wait a second. Does this mean my mom is still alive? And that everyone else I know is still alive back on my Earth?”
“I don’t know,” Boricio said, seeming to marinate in the thought. “I can’t even guess.”
