Behold a Dark Mirror (10 page)

"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.

"You said you shot a Cheshire?"

"I'm pretty sure I hit it between the eyes—so to speak."

"That's unheard of."  Nero said.

"I got it."

"Lots of first-rate gunslingers tried to shoot Cheshires—none of them ever succeeded, Kebe.  I'm sure at least some of them were as good as you are."  He looked at her, smiling.

"What's the alternative?"  She said, oblivious to the tease.

"Maybe the Cheshire let you shoot it—to give us this."  He raised the rope.

"A rope?"  Kebe said.

"You know what it looks like?"

"It's a cord—don't play games."

"One of their tails."

Kebe gasped.  "You're kidding!  Why would they want us to have a tail?"

"It didn't taste bad."  Nero held his breath.  The implication in his statement had a menacing slant.  "It tasted funny, but not bad."

"How much did you eat?"  Kebe said.

"There's my bite mark here, see?"  He showed Kebe.  He smacked his tongue twice.  "It's all gone now," and rubbed his tummy.  "Keep me in sight for the next couple of days."

Kebe looked at him with concern.  The hangar was approaching quickly;  chills rippled across her back in anticipation of leaving the warm cabin.

*

Engaging the generator was as simple as tripping a switch now, Nero told her as they walked into the hangar.  He said the switch triggered a pinhole in the plasma torus of the fusion reactor.  A leak of plasma was driven through the reaction mass of the magneto-hydrodynamic generator, igniting it.  Hot ionized gases streamed across electrodes, generating power, and were then cooled down by heating water that produced steam for the micro-turbines.

"Who cares?  I want electricity for the mailer, and I want to get out of here," she replied.

Kebe wished that Nero shared her concern about Cheshires;  but Nero clung to his belief.  "They're peaceable," he insisted.  She dreaded each step they were taking.

In sight, he'll stay within my line of sight,
she thought.

"There."  Nero turned the handle on the control module.  The machine ignited with a roar.  Something whirred, accelerating.

"Let's get out now," Kebe said.

"Sure, sure."  Nero started walking back to the door;  this time he was steady on his legs.  The whine was sharp, shifting onto even sharper registers.

"I'm amazed at how fast you're recovering."  Kebe shouted too loud.

"I was clothed heavily.  My left ear bleeding was from an old scar."  Nero said, looking over his shoulder at her.  "In a way, that scar is the reason I'm here, you know.  It was the trap that destiny laid for my hubris."  Kebe, now wearing Nero's parka, was shivering and chose not to inquire further.

As they moved away from the generator, the hangar became quieter.  The claps of their footfalls died in a million echoes;  Nero walked a little ahead of Kebe.  Her hand was steady on the microwave gun.  Nero disappeared around a corner;  Kebe quickened her pace: 
In line of sight,
she thought.

Yet before she could round the corner the sound of Nero's steps had vanished.  Her hair tickled, pushed outward again: she ran towards him, ignoring fear’s sudden grip.

"Nero!"  She said pulling her gun, her hair sticking out straight, her skin suddenly clammy, the trigger half squeezed.

When she reached past the edge of the corner Kebe stopped as if hitting a glass wall.  Her free hand moved to her gaping mouth.  Instead of shooting, the other hand dropped her gun to the floor.

"Oh, my God," she said, "my God."

CHAPTER 10

Civil Defense was not done searching by nightfall, so Jenus tried to sleep on the couch in his office.  He took a pill and managed to snooze a couple of hours before more questions.  Where was he yesterday?  The day before?  With whom?  Why?  Was the lab insured?  For how much?  How was business?  How did he hurt his head?  On and on.

He had to lie at times, making it up as he went along.  Too little sleep did not help;  he knew right away he was digging his grave.  Yet, if he told the truth, he would not even have the few hours that CD needed to check his tale.

When CD was done, they told him he was free, and also:  "Mr. Dorato, please remain at your apartment.  An agent will be in touch with you."

Sure,
Jenus thought.

"If CD cannot locate you within six hours, we'll issue a warrant for your arrest."  The officer said.  "Standard procedure in murder investigations."

CD left a man on the premises.  Jenus went home.

*

His apartment was still inside out.  The maid service, Jenus guessed, couldn't decide how to put things back together and had given up.  He sat on the springbox of the couch.  An envelope stuck to the wall with red tape caught his eye.

He got up, peeled the tape, opened it.  "Mickey's, will trade," the message said.  There was a bootleg framepost card, too, in the envelope:  nice touch.

At least this didn’t promise help,
Jenus thought;  they just wanted his data.  The note must be from whoever had kidnapped Janet.  Jenus’s life was unraveling;  he watched it all happen like a show about someone else. 
Might it be another trap?
  These people wanted information first, and maybe afterwards also wanted him dead.  No matter what, he had to get Janet out of this:  She had no part in it.  He owed her and consequences did not matter much.