Behold a Dark Mirror Page 8

  "Why did you call me?"

  "I've a problem. I need to know all you can tell me about the sample."

  "You've been paid to keep away from that information."

  "I can deliver even more interesting facts, but I must stay on board a while longer. To stay on, I need some results," Galt said.

  "What's the problem?"

  "Influential officials are very displeased with my investigation." He smirked: "Somehow that doesn't surprise me."

  "What do you want to know?"

  "The sample. Tell me about the analysis."

  "No."

  Galt's heart sank. "Oh."

  "Is this all? If so, good-bye." The visitor moved away.

  "No! Please wait."

  "Speak."

  "Anything. Tell me anything you can about Dorato. Help me buy time. Please—you know I can be of service to you again."

  "We failed to get rid of him."

  "You want him dead. What did he do?" Galt said.

  "Nothing—he just knows too much."

  "What is there in that sample? No. Sorry, I didn't mean to ask. Go ahead, tell me what you can."

  "We failed, for one reason or another. I guess he’s tougher than we thought. We pinned him down in Southeast Asia. Dorato is either very skillful or very lucky, and now he's on the run."

  "Where is he?"

  "He was back recently; we’re still trying to trace him. By the way, tell me about the mess at the lab."

  "My man overdid it. I understand there was a corpse left on the premises. I had told him to scare the bastard; it got out of hand," Galt said.

  "You shouldn't have let your people search the lab. They might have found information."

  "I shouldn't have. But I have to cover my back—there's a limit to how far I can push."

  "I understand. When we found out that the lab was searched, however, we disabled its frames. Just a precaution."

  "I hear you," Galt said. "I need just enough to be helpful a while longer. My cover will break soon."

  "How soon?"

  "Weeks. Maybe a few months at best."

  "Too bad. You're a good source."

  "I know. I'll need your help afterwards."

  "We'll see to that when we come to it." The man stood up and walked away.

  Galt nibbled at the remains of his food, and played with the wine goblet. He was holding Dorato's girlfriend on behalf of the Tower, yes, but mostly for himself. He'd have Dorato, too, soon enough—and he would get from him what he wanted. Dorato was as slippery as an oiled fish. Damn chemist. Galt almost wished Dorato was dead already; he loathed murder, it demonstrated such poor taste.

  CHAPTER 9

  Kebe was shivering after three steps out of the trailer: Doka was cold beyond her worst imagination. "Where is the garage?" She mumbled, draping a blanket over her shoulders. "Nero, what happened to you?"

  Kebe's voice mixed with the crunch of her steps on the walkway and the steady howl of the wind. Eerie gloweed light, too dim to show Cheshires on the prowl, shrouded Hi.

  "Here I am, Lord. Of all your creatures, a wretched one," Kebe said. "I'm casting my lot with the dream a monster left in my head after trying to kill me.

  "I don't doubt your wisdom, Lord, but I doubt my ways alright. If anything happens to Nero, I'll be trapped in this wasteland."

  She struggled to control panic. "Hell that was just a dream! I bet Nero is OK, this is a dream, the lousy fuzz-ball didn't like me—that's all. If not, I still..."

  A road sign appeared in front of her; many arrows indicated Garage, Workshops, Pits, a cluster of other destinations. Kebe began coughing from inhaling air too cold for her lungs.

  "Garage, that's where I want to be. Isn't it?" she said, puffs condensing from her mouth. "Where else would the tractor be?" She trotted to warm up, breathing shallow.

  A boxy building appeared in the crepuscular luminescence. Kebe slowed to a walk; soon she reached a wall, felt her way to a door. She tried the handle: unlocked! When into the building she tripped a switch. Cold yellow light flooded a vast emptiness; in its center towered a gigantic vehicle mounted on tracks.

  She climbed the ladder to the driver's cabin, the rungs cold even unto pain. Inside she focused on the main controls and studied them. After disengaging the hydraulic clutch, she pressed the start button: the big machine whined to life, its noise muffled by the airtight cabin.

  "Have wheels, well, tracks rather, now I need a way out," Kebe said.

  She climbed down. The tractor's wail was growing louder, its pitch higher and higher. If Nero was injured, the goose bumps on her forearms said, he might suffer hypothermia soon.

  The lock on the big door was remote-controlled. Where would she put the activator? The walls nearby were barren. She searched behind a clatter of hardware: nothing. The tractor was ready, now barely humming—the low, pleasing noise was an understated hint of the power it concealed.

  Any solution was good: She needed out. Kebe ran to the door, tapped it and banged her fists on it—just weather protection. She looked at the tractor.

  Climbing up, the metal of the ladder's handrail was sticking to her hands, lancing her knuckles and fingers with stabs of ice. In the cabin she sat in the driver's chair, took another look around.

  "Here it is—where else?"

  Kebe pushed Open on the remote. The door swung. She engaged the drive, and the flywheels began launching the tractor ahead. The headlights flicked on and—jubilation!—she found the heater. The main motors purred, the tractor picked up speed.

  "Look at this," she said.

  The vehicle was equipped with radar, ultrasonic scanner, UV and infrared imaging systems, and a ridiculous array of telecommunication devices. The heater, set on max, had already turned the cabin into a torrid enclosure.

  "Good stuff!" She giggled in her newfound comfort. The tractor was clanking along, unstoppable. Wind and cold were gone, replaced by the next goal: finding Nero.

  "Look for the lights, he can't work in the dark. But where?" The hauling road became straight, broad, brainlessly immense. The tractor plodded along. Warm and cozy, now her chills were for Nero: outside, the temperature had dropped two more degrees. Her eyes strained, piercing through darkness for a glimpse of light—or of a Cheshire.

  Kebe grabbed the mike: "Nero, this is Kebe. I am coming from Hi to the mine pit riding the thoroughfare. If you can, show me where you are. Over."

  Again. And again: still no answer. A light came into sight, a far pinprick in the darkness, too faint even to tell its color. Her heart started to race. She pushed the throttle: the speedometer rose, the efficiency monitor crashed from 88% to below 40%. But the fuel cells were full; and the light was growing. A smaller speck of red also appeared.

  "Tail lights!"

  After the travel time to the red lights Kebe parked the tractor next to the cart, leaving it idling. She opened the cabin door—the wind grabbed it and slammed it; its chilling violence made the bite on her skin even more intense after the comfort of the tractor. Kebe was shivering before she reached the bottom of the ladder. Walking by the cart, she could imagine the discomfort of riding the open vehicle through the night wind.

  "You're still a kid when you get excited, Nero—the kid you never were," she said. The first-aid suitcase from the tractor kicked against her thigh, its strap catching the holster of her gun. She pulled her weapon and called from outside:

  "Nero! Are you here?"

  Her hair felt weird. She turned in panic, her weapon ready to fire: A blue Cheshire stood before her eyes, three meters away. Her gun went off, a broken shriek from her throat accompanying its discharge. The Cheshire flicked sideways. Kebe engaged in a shooting delirium, each burst from her weapon anticipated by the creature. The Cheshire shortly disappea
red, leaving behind the scorch marks from Kebe's missed shots.

  She waffled, hesitating at the door, panting and puffing in the frigid air, her heart racing. Like a cliff diver taking the highest jump ever, she stormed into the building.

  Kebe's nimble frame, legs spread for equilibrium, shook from the cold, her teeth chattering. Her eyes scanned the empty hangar, darting from side to side as she swung her gun to and fro in broad sweeps, searching for targets. The trigger finger flexed a hair away from firing.

  "Nero, where are you?" she yelled. Echoes answered her call, waving in ripples across the deserted building. Nothing moved.

  "In two weeks this will be just a bad dream," she whispered, "A bad dream." Her blanket wasn't warm enough; the microwave gun, still warm from firing, felt pleasant in her hand. She walked deeper into the building. All colors appeared jaundiced from the industrial lighting—except the pitch-black crevices. She heard steam hissing in the background, as if teasing her. The air she breathed smelled stale and was cold enough to burn in her throat.

  Kebe walked past an overhanging cabin, control panels, empty spaces—nothing happened. Then her scalp tingled. Kebe began sweating, droplets lining her forehead. She could feel fresh goose bumps become harder while striving to slow down painful hyperventilation. Her steps echoed in the vast emptiness; she refused to stop or turn around and look, as if ignorance could protect her. Her stomach cramping, her knees too weak, she put both hands on the gun, feeling its warm comfort.

  The building ahead of her was a boundless expanse of dark corners. She felt her sphincters relaxing, fought to keep them tight, tried to keep focused, to fend off panic, to keep on walking by refusing to turn back and run.

  Must find Nero.

  Her hair began to raise. Sweat rolled down her brow and dripped off her head, turning into icy spots on the concrete. Her muscles had become stiff, her moves tainted by tremors. She surmised a beast was behind her, waiting for her to turn before attacking, so she stared straight ahead instead.

  Universe is not. Cold is not. Concrete block ahead of me is. Must walk past it, she thought.

  Step past.

  Step the.

  Step block.

  Nero on floor! Beast on his head aim fire hit turn around look look look. Hair collapses

  Breathe! Now!

  Icy air filled and fled Kebe's lungs in compulsive fits mixed with coughing that bent her spine. She rested her hands on her knees, crying; she was dizzy enough to forget the temperature.

  How long till the next time?

  She turned to Nero and... The beast was gone!

  Kebe was sure she hit the monster. The animal had been half merged with the top of Nero's head, plenty of clearance, the microwave gun had a tight beam at this range. Nero was unhurt. But the beast was gone!

  Kebe realized Nero's left ear was bleeding. He looked as though he'd fallen flat onto his back from standing: possible skull fracture. He was breathing, his pulse was weak and slow. She must get him out of the cold, to the tractor—how? He was too heavy for lifting.

  Kebe opened the first aid case, rummaging for the flashlight. She turned it on, lifted Nero's eyelids, directed the beam to his irises, which contracted. She went for the vial of ammonia, cracked it and put it under Nero's nose. He coughed and moaned, waking up.

  "Kebe... What—where am I? What happened?" Nero tried to lift his upper body on his elbows. "The power plant hangar. Yes. Pook, the other Cheshire. I've got to..." He coughed. "Oh, my head."

  "Here, Nero, easy." Kebe took a pad of bandages from the suitcase and laid Nero's head on it, his back flat on the floor. "What about your head?"

  "It hurts, all over."

  "Your ear is bleeding."

  "Which one?"

  "This." Kebe touched the left side of his head.

  "It's an old injury."

  "You fell on the concrete, you may have fractured your skull."

  "There's an X-ray machine in the infirmary." Nero said, laying down. "I'm so cold."

  "Been exposed for too long."

  Nero's teeth were chattering. "I'm sorry, Kebe."

  "Whatever you do," she said, "don't leave me here alone; I'm not hermit material. Can you stand up?"

  "I'll try."

  "Wait. This first." Kebe applied a patch with a pain killer to his neck. "When the pain stops," she brushed his forehead, "then you try to stand up. The tractor is idling next to your cart over there," she said, pointing to the entrance. "If you can, let's walk to it. I can't carry you."

  Nero tried to sit up. "I'm passing out."

  "Take another whiff."

  *

  Nero coughed and reopened his eyes: Kebe was waving again the ammonia vial under his nose. The acrid smell engorged his sinuses and lungs. He understood he had to stand up, so he tried. Pushing up, his hand met a ropy strand lying on the floor; his fingers latched onto it by reflex. Kebe was trying to steady him with partial success. Nero at last got to his feet, leaning on her.

  "OK?" Kebe said.

  He nodded.

  "Then let's get out of here." She put her arm around his waist. One of his arms was around her shoulders; the other swung freely, the hand still clutching the strand.

  A step at a time they walked to the exit. He was so cold, so cold. Walking next to Kebe in this state he'd better be careful, if he fell he could crush her. Kebe knew where to go—that was OK. Putting one foot in front of the other and remaining upright took all of his attention.

  *

  Kebe had two concerns. One was helping Nero; to take care of the other, her free hand caressed the gun's holster.

  Their breaths puffed, Nero's shallow, hers slower. She tried to flaunt a composure she didn't feel as her eyes panned from recess to recess; after an eternity they got out of the building, back into the wind. The cold was unbearable.

  "The cabin is warm!" Kebe yelled above the wind, pointing at the tractor.

  Nero nodded. He gripped the handrails to climb into the tractor, looking quizzically at the meter long cord he was holding in his hand. Kebe noticed the cord, but decided to ask later. Nero put the cord in his mouth and held it between his teeth while climbing.

  Kebe found a coffee maker in the cabin. Soon she was sipping from a cup of hot and horrible coffee while driving. Nero drank tea while the tractor trundled along. His left ear had stopped bleeding, but he complained of being giddy.

  "The morphiates in the patch on your neck will do that," said Kebe. "Exposure, too. You’re in mild shock—and I'm not doing too well myself."

  Kebe started weeping, rubbing her nose with her hand.

  "It's over, Kebe. We're safe and warm now."

  "No, we're not," she said. "We're not!" Kebe sniffed and told him the story of her attempted murder; told him about the gunfight outside the hangar, and about the Cheshire embedded in his head when she found him. Nero looked at her, sporting the same stare he offered to the first Cheshire he ever saw.

  "Are you serious?" He said.

  She threw a laser beam gaze at him. "I'm not going to strangle you for saying that, not until we leave this place for good. But I'll do it if you don't apologize! How dare you?"

  "OK, OK, I'm sorry. This is totally new. Nothing like this ever happened." He sipped. "I’m so sorry. Must have been terrible."

  "What's that rope you have in your hands, Nero?"

  "This?" He raised the cord from the seat. "Don't know. Found it in my hands." He looked at it in the dim cabin. "Tasted funny when I had it in my teeth, though. I can't believe it tried to kill you. Why?"

  "You tell me."

  "Are you sure murder was the motive?"

  "What else?"

  "It didn't kill you after all. You don't even know the one outside the hangar was hostile."

 
; Kebe paused, aware of the unemotional facts. "No, it didn't kill me."

  "But it could have."

  Tears started dripping down Kebe's cheek. "Yes." Kebe released the impossible pressure from the latest events, letting herself weep. She sniffled and whined. Nero leaned against her. Kebe's release was controlled, her back was straight, her arms relaxed on the armrests, fingers gently playing the controls that ran the tractor while tears washed her cheeks and her mind clean. Her release reached a climax, and the tears stopped. She sniffled once more.

  "I'm better now."

  "Good," Nero said.

  "If it didn't mean to kill me, what did it want?"

  "Maybe it didn't want anything... Communication?"

  She looked at him. "So that I'd come and help you."

  "Nights are cold, I was lucky you came."

  "But then, why? Why are you so special? Don't misunderstand me, but—why would they do this for you?"

  "Maybe it's not me, Kebe."

  "What do you mean?"

  "At the generator, two Cheshires were..." He looked at her: "The generator! Did you start it?"

  "No."

  "We've got to go back and start the generator."

  "Are you insane?"

  "How long, Kebe? How long before they come for us? Can we afford to wait?"

  "Hell-shit! Merde. Elephant turds!" Kebe drove the tractor in an ample U-turn across the hauling road, back to the hangar. "I don't want to go back. I've had enough of that place. I've had enough of this planet!" For an instant, only the hum of the motor broke the silence.

  "There were two Cheshires in front of me, they were so close I passed out. Two of them," Nero said.

  "Why?"

  "Beats me."

  "Guess then," Kebe said.

  "Pook was getting lonely. No clue, dear."

  "Yes! Lonely."

  "Nonsense. They're not human, Kebe, don’t give them human emotions."

  "Got a better idea?" Kebe said.