Interzone Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine #213 Page 8

  He hears them say yes. He feels Marty's disappointment and concern at the lack of news about his body. But Marty is attentive when Kyle asks them how they would feel about having a new roommate. Yeah, why not, says David. It'll be a kick having a famous politician around. Marty agrees, but Kyle senses that he's not happy. Marty doesn't much like politicians.

  Kyle and Trevor stop at a crossroads and stand in the shade of a tree, sipping at their water bottles. Kyle agrees to hide Benney, though he's worried. He tells Trevor of his fears about Yolanda.

  "Don't trust anyone,” Trevor says. “We hear stories every day of denunciations by family members. Wives denounced by husbands, parents by children. It tears me apart."

  It tears Kyle apart too. He can't believe that his wife or daughter would denounce him, but so much is at stake. The restaurant has been a huge investment. God, how hard they've worked. They're doing well, but it could all come apart in an instant. Yolanda needs to get into university next year. Pressure can be brought in so many ways.

  Kyle and Trevor ride back to town by another road, making plans for the download on the way. The download is a dangerous phase since Kyle will have to go to Gill's house. The equipment is rare and expensive, usually to be found only in universities, or in the private labs of foundations or corporations. It may not be easy to find someone hiding in the mind of another person, but this equipment is easy to locate. Trevor and Kyle decide on the following Tuesday afternoon. Yolanda has a dance lesson after school, and Randy his soccer practice. Kyle will have time alone. If Laura asks, he'll say he went to the gym.

  * * * *

  It's Sunday evening now. Kyle and the family are having dinner together. He's barbecued some steaks, Laura has made a salad, and Yolanda has made a peach cobbler. Randy helps watch over the fire.

  Kyle opens a bottle of an excellent syrah. Would Yolanda like a little? After all, he says, she's going to be eighteen this winter. Laura smiles, but Kyle can see that she's uneasy. Yolanda looks confused. Kyle pours her a half glass. She sniffs it, takes a sip and says it's good. But when the meal is over Kyle sees that she hasn't drunk it. She has homework to do, she says, and excuses herself.

  "You shouldn't have given her the wine,” says Laura. “What will people say if they find out? And what will she think, knowing her father has allowed her to drink? You know what attitudes are like these days."

  "We can't let the events dictate everything we do,” says Kyle.

  "Do you know what happened to those people who were found hiding that body in their house?” Laura says. “They're in jail, and they've lost everything."

  "To take such a risk,” Kyle says, “they must have had very good reasons.” He looks back at Laura. He tries to make it a suspicious look, like one of those looks that she and Yolanda have given him—that he thinks they've given him, he tells himself. He is so fed up with this feeling of suspicion.

  "What's wrong with you?” she says.

  "Nothing that isn't wrong with the whole country,” Kyle says. He knows he shouldn't provoke her like this. He'd like to talk to Laura, tell her how he feels, what he's been doing for the underground. But how would she react?

  "Kyle,” Laura says. “We've got the children to think about. And the restaurant too. It's our livelihood."

  Kyle says nothing.

  They make small talk as they clean up in the kitchen. Afterwards Laura sits down to read in the living room. Kyle sits alone on the terrace, sipping the rest of his wine, the observation room discreetly open. From where he sits he can see Laura through the window, in the glow of the reading lamp, her back to him.

  How well does he really know her? he wonders.

  * * * *

  It's late Tuesday evening now. The September heat wave continues. Kyle and the children have had dinner on the terrace again. The download went according to plan that afternoon. Trevor drove Kyle from Gill's house to the gym afterwards. Kyle had left his car there.

  "How do you feel?” Trevor asked.

  "Fine,” Kyle said, but it was a lie. He felt tired. The previous times the download had left him feeling normal, but this was different. Carson's download was a heavy one. In addition to Carson, there was the new bedroom to create, and Carson's many contacts, resources and virtual belongings to include. Plus, the system was updated, and the apartment upgraded.

  Now Kyle slowly climbs the stairs to the attic. He's still tired. Very tired. But he wants to pay the guys a visit anyway. He hasn't met Carson yet.

  Carson looks just like his photos. Older than Kyle, and graying, but with only a hint of a waistline bulge. Kyle feels fat compared to him. And in his three piece suit, his tie and shiny black shoes, how different the he looks from Marty and David. David was always in jeans and a tee-shirt, Marty in old slacks and a worn-out sweater.

  Amazing how the system can handle such detail, Kyle thinks.

  The light in the apartment is different, Kyle notices. A sliding glass door has been added, looking out onto a flowered terrace with swimming pool. A high fence covered with vines surrounds the terrace. The view beyond is obscured by high trees, but Kyle thinks he sees a distant mountain landscape. There's a gate in the fence too. Another escape hatch?

  "Nice, eh?” says David. “The daylight seems to be synchronized with the real day outside. And the temperature is perfect."

  No wonder the download was difficult, thinks Kyle.

  "We've got a kitchen too,” adds Marty. “We can't cook, but we can order up virtual meals. That might help us stay on schedule."

  "Too bad they didn't think of this earlier,” Kyle says. But he doesn't like these changes. It's less and less like a temporary refuge up here.

  Carson greets Kyle warmly. He is so grateful for the help, he says. Here inside he plans to continue his work of organizing a new opposition party, to give the country a third choice. Enough of this false democracy, enough of this useless two-party system. What we want is freedom. Real freedom, he says, his arms raised. We must be ready for the next elections. The population will rise up and throw the scoundrels out.

  Kyle looks at Marty and David. Marty rolls his eyes. David smirks. Carson is a brave man, thinks Kyle. He speaks brave words that have cost him dearly, and may yet cost him even more. But doesn't he realize that it's the ‘population’ that has put the scoundrels in power? That keeps them there?

  Kyle must leave. Laura will be home soon. He leaves the men in the living room. Their voices carry down the hall as he goes out. An argument is in the making, thinks Kyle. He surfaces and walks down the hall, feigning grogginess as usual. Yolanda is there, with Randy by her side. They watch him as he walks.

  "Are you okay, Daddy?” she asks.

  "Fine,” Kyle says. “Just tired. That's all."

  Laura soon comes in. They sit on the terrace, sipping a chilled white.

  "Russ was in looking for you today,” she says. “Where were you?"

  "At the gym,” says Kyle, yawning.

  "That's what Russ thought,” she says. “Your car was out front. He went in, but didn't see you."

  Kyle feels her dark eyes boring into him. He knows she won't let up. And he notices how she says ‘Russ'. Not ‘That Russ', or ‘your friend Russ'. Just ‘Russ'.

  "Maybe I was in the sauna,” Kyle says. “What did he want?"

  "He mentioned a bike ride.” She takes a long sip of her wine, then slowly puts down her glass. “Where were you, Kyle?” she says.

  "At the gym."

  "Why didn't Russ find you?"

  "It sounds like you and Russ are good friends,” Kyle says.

  Laura says nothing.

  "Or that he wanted an excuse to drop by the restaurant to see you,” Kyle continues. “He drives about town looking for me, just to ask about going for a bike ride—"

  "He's new in town,” Laura says. “He's just trying to make—"

  "—and he ends up at the restaurant, chatting with you. Doesn't he have anything better to do? What does he do, by the way? He must have a job."


  Laura slams her wine glass on the table. Wine spills over the sides and onto the table top. She stands. “Don't be silly,” she says, turns away and goes into the house.

  Kyle sits there for a long moment, softly massaging his temples. He feels a pressure in the top of his brain.

  * * * *

  Kyle wakes up late the next morning. And tired, so tired. He rushes to get to the restaurant. No time to access the attic and talk to the guys. No time to even take a shower or read the newspaper.

  This fatigue is not normal. He needs to see Trevor.

  The restaurant is empty, but in the back rooms the kitchen staff is clanging pots and pans, the radio blaring pop tunes. Kyle sits at a bar room table facing the front door, a cup of coffee and order forms before him. He must check the day's deliveries, a hard job, as tired and worried as he feels. He lays his head down on the table.

  The sudden sound of the door opening jars him. He looks up.

  Trevor is coming towards him, his face pale and contorted. “Gill's been arrested, Kyle,” he whispers.

  Kyle says nothing. Why has Trevor come here to tell him this? He should know better. The kitchen staff, deliverymen, any number of people could come in and see him. Get him out of here, thinks Kyle. Fast.

  "Let's go to the bakery next door and have a pastry,” he says.

  "No time,” says Trevor, panting, backing away. “I'll try to learn more today. Meet me at the gym this afternoon, as usual."

  "I'm not well, Trevor. Something's wrong, the download—” But Trevor is gone.

  That afternoon Kyle leaves the restaurant early. At the gym he goes into the exercise room in his street clothes, into the clamor of pounding weights, humming chains, and soft rock from overhead loudspeakers. He'll only stay a moment, just long enough to speak with Trevor. He's too tired for exercise. He looks out over the crowd on their exercise machines, but sees no Trevor.

  Someone taps him on the shoulder.

  "Hey, Kyle,” says Russ with a big smile. “How's it going?"

  "Fine,” says Kyle. He manages a smile too. He should give Russ a few minutes, not to arouse his suspicion.

  "Your wife tell you I stopped by?” Russ says. He doesn't wait for Kyle's answer. How would Kyle like to join a Sunday morning biking club? Hey, Kyle, he quickly adds, you're looking pretty tired. Anything wrong?

  "Just overworked,” Kyle says, and excuses himself. He's got to run home, he says. Thanks for the invitation. He'll be in touch.

  Kyle wanders through the gym. He feels a headache coming on. A drumming in the top of his head, like the pounding of these weights. He finds Trevor nowhere. Over his shoulder he sees Russ looking at him.

  Kyle waves to Russ as he's about to leave.

  Russ rushes to him, takes him by the arm.

  "You sure you're okay, Kyle?” he says, his voice low and sure. He puts his hand on Kyle's forehead. “No fever, but you don't look well. If anything's wrong, maybe I can help."

  "Things are fine, Russ,” Kyle says.

  * * * *

  Kyle arrives home, a cold sweat pouring down his face. He needs to sleep. But first he wants to go up to the attic to tell the guys the news of Gill and his fears for Trevor. He wants to tell them this in person. They're the only people he can share this with.

  In the attic he finds the men on the terrace. The afternoon sun is still high. David is swimming laps in the pool, Marty is sitting in a deck chair scribbling notes in the margins of a print-out of his new novel, and Carson is at the picnic table typing on his laptop.

  "Kyle, come on in,” cries David. “The water's great."

  Kyle smiles but declines. He sits at the picnic table to talk with Carson. He wishes he had time to get to know him better. That will have to wait.

  "Kyle,” Carson says, loud and confident as he shuts down his laptop, “I'll need to get into the control room tomorrow, all day. There's a secret meeting in the capital I have to attend."

  Kyle feels a tightening in his stomach, then tiny tremors. He didn't need this. Not now. He glances at Marty who has overheard. Marty looks worried, comes to join them at the table.

  "Carson,” says Kyle, “I have some news for all of you."

  "Maybe you didn't hear me,” says Carson.

  "I heard you,” says Kyle. “That's against the rules. Listen, we—"

  "This is more important than the rules,” says Carson.

  "For you it is,” says Marty. “Not for us!"

  "This meeting is crucial,” Carson continues.

  David joins them now, his hair and trunks dripping. “Hey Kyle,” he says, toweling himself off.

  "Listen, Marty,” says Carson. “You have to understand that—"

  "Carson,” Kyle says. “No one is going into the control room."

  "We should be using all the means at our disposal,” says Carson, nearly spitting out the words, “if we're serious about our cause."

  Kyle winces at Carson's tone, so contemptuous. He stands to go. “A lot of people have taken a risk to protect you, Carson,” he says. “Be worthy."

  "Protection?” Carson yells after Kyle. “What we need is action!"

  "Carson, shut up,” David is saying as Kyle leaves the terrace.

  Kyle won't take crap from Carson Benney. He just won't. He'll come back later to tell them about Gill and Trevor.

  * * * *

  Kyle surfaces. He starts on seeing Randy's face hovering above him, and quickly pushes himself upright. Randy jumps back. Randy's friend Bobby McCord is standing at the bedroom door. The boy springs backwards, his squarish face white in the darkened hallway.

  "Randy,” Kyle says, “what are you doing here?"

  "Can I go over to Bobby's house for a while?” Randy asks.

  It's just past four, Kyle sees. “Okay,” he says, “but only for an hour."

  In the kitchen Kyle starts making dinner, wishing he didn't have to. What to make? Pasta and salad? Yes, but he feels his headache coming back. He spills water over the stove, then refills the pan. The water begins to heat, he pours in a few drops of olive oil, but his hand shakes and the few drops become several tablespoons. He can't steady his hand. Maybe a glass of wine would help. He fumbles with the bottle, drops the corkscrew, retrieves it, but only to push the cork down into the wine. The pounding inside his head grows. The bottle crashes to the floor, wine gurgles out around the cork in frothy red spurts.

  Kyle scrambles to wipe up the wine with his bare hands. But that's no good, he thinks. He reaches for a sponge, but his skull feels as if it's about to split open. He sinks to his knees, holding his head in his hands.

  "Daddy!” Yolanda rushes into the kitchen. She sets the wine bottle aright. Now Kyle feels her wiping the wine off his face and hands.

  Kyle stands, leans against the kitchen counter, the pounding lessens, becomes faint and dull. He should go lie down. Randy is in the kitchen now too. Home already from Bobby McCord's? What time is it? Not five yet.

  Why won't this pounding go away?

  Kyle is walking down the hall to the bedroom now, Randy leading him by the hand. He hears Yolanda back in the kitchen. She'll clean up, get dinner ready. He knows he can count on her.

  "Randy, you're home so soon,” mumbles Kyle as he lies down.

  "I didn't go,” says Randy. “You scared Bobby. You were weird."

  Yes, Kyle thinks. I am weird. Very weird. And very tired.

  He shuts his eyes.

  * * * *

  Kyle feels better now. He's sitting on the terrace with Randy and Yolanda. He slept for an hour while Yolanda got dinner ready—tortellini in a mushroom and sage sauce, plus a tossed salad. Some wine remains in the bottle, but he doesn't want any. And the evening is hot, still so hot. When will autumn bring cooler temperatures? The meal is over now, but the children remain at the table with him. Kyle tries to talk to them, but they don't say much. He'll clear the table and do the dishes instead.

  "We'll do it,” says Randy.

  "You go lie down,” says Y
olanda.

  Kyle is relieved. He wants to go up to the attic. He must find out what has happened up there. And he still hasn't told the men about Trevor.

  The attic is silent as Kyle makes his way through the hallway. David's door is open, but the reporter isn't there. Next is Marty's door. Kyle listens, hears the faint tapping of a computer keyboard, a good sign. But it's Carson that Kyle wants to see.

  Carson's door is tightly shut. No answer to Kyle's knocking.

  Kyle finds David on a chaise longue on the terrace. The reporter's face looks different. A black eye, Kyle sees.

  "We had a bit of a dust up,” says David.

  "I figured,” says Kyle. He sits near David and looks about the terrace. A deck chair is overturned, some of Marty's papers strewn about.

  "Carson was picking on Marty,” David continues. “The guy got really nasty. I thought he was going to hit Marty. I stepped in and Carson took a swing at me, caught me in the eye.” David sighed and smiled. “I had to do something about it,” he adds.

  Kyle smiles too. “How's Carson?"

  "I think that was the first time anybody's ever put him in his place."

  "You okay, David?” asks Kyle.

  "It's only virtual,” says the reporter.

  Kyle hears someone coming. Carson emerges through the sliding glass doors from the living room. He has a black eye too, and his nose has been bleeding. Marty follows, carrying another manuscript.

  "I thought I heard you out here,” says Carson. “Thought you'd sneak back, did you?"

  "Don't start in again, Carson,” says David.

  "I've contacted the underground,” Carson says. “I want out of here."

  "I want you out of here too,” says Kyle. He stands. He has to do something about Carson. He's the host. It's his job. Not David and Marty's. But who can he contact? Trevor was his only link.

  Kyle feels the terrace shaking beneath his feet. His own internal tremors, he wonders? No, it's like an earthquake that stops then starts again, then stops. Kyle looks about him. The men look as mystified as he is.

  The earthquake starts again, violent this time.

  Kyle's headache comes roaring back. Feverish this time, as if two burning hands were trying to pull his brain out of his head. A hot wind rises. Trees and bushes shake, the water in the pool splashes over the sides and onto the tiles. Chairs fall over. The glass doors rattle. David grabs Marty and pulls him into the apartment.