Laughing Wolf (12 page)

As soon as they were gone, she hurried to the room where she'd seen Felix last — a good thing, too. The sturdy nurse was about to wheel him off. Catching sight of Carolyn, she waved her forward and the pair of them walked through a different pair of doors and down a long hallway until they paused outside an elevator.

“Felix,” Carolyn spoke. “It's me. Wake up.”

“Carolyn,” he groaned, opening his eyes a crack, “I overheard the doctor say I'm bleeding inside and they can't stop it. They can't operate, either, because I've lost too much fluid. They'll try tomorrow, once I've had a transfusion, but it doesn't look good.”

“What's the matter with these jerks? They don't know about recombinative tissue? We prepared it last year in my biology class!”

The door wheeled open and the nurse steered the gurney on board. A man and woman were chatting inside — they were wearing ID cards and were part of the staff. Entering the space, Carolyn bumped into the woman and nodded her apologies.

“Listen closely,” Felix resumed. “You must complete our mission. That's the only thing that counts. The problem is the obvious temples won't work. Do you remember what the doctor said? If a temple's been exposed too long, the portal will have lost its ‘charge'? That means —”

“Save your strength. You'll tell me later.”

“I have to tell you now!”

“I'm not leaving without you, that's all there is to it. By the way,” she added, to change the subject, “I know today's date — I saw it in a newspaper. It's September 10, 2001. So we're two hundred years away from our era.…”

“Did you say September 10, 2001?” If her intention had been to calm him, she had miserably failed. If anything, his face was even paler now.

“Yes. Why?”

“That means tomorrow is 9/11. The twin towers are about to be attacked.” He said “twin towers” in English, and the nurse overheard him.

“The twin towers?” she joked. “Are you planning a tour?”

The elevator stopped. With Carolyn's help, she wheeled Felix out and along a hallway to unit 501. She then told Carolyn, using Felix to translate, that there was a sitting room at the end of the hallway where she should wait until she was summoned to see him. There were tests to be run and she would get in people's way.

“I'll be back soon,” she said. “Promise me you'll last.”

“Listen,” Felix said, “the famous temples won't work….”

“Tell me later. And I'm serious. You can't die in my absence.”

She stooped and, to his surprise, pecked him on the forehead. She then turned on her heel and moved toward the waiting room before Felix could utter another word of protest. The nurse smiled and wheeled him alongside a bed. Together with another nurse whom she called in from the floor's front desk, she transferred him to a mattress, gave him an injection, plumped his pillow, and covered him with blankets. Explaining they had other patients to look after, she left the unit.

Felix stared out the window. The sun had set and the world outside was filled with shadows. Central Park lay sprawled before him and, beyond it, a line of buildings that were sporadically lit. In the sky above he spied the planet Jupiter. He thought about his mother and how she would grace its moon in two hundred years.

The medication was kicking in — the throbbing in his side had stopped. Maybe he could sleep; he was tired enough. But the day's date kept gnawing at him — it was as pointed as the blade with which Flaccus had stabbed him. September 10, 2001. He had seen the footage of the planes striking home, and knew that events for the next fifty years could be traced to that particular crisis. It was because of 9/11 that the “religious wars” had broken out, ones that had pushed the world to the brink of extinction. That was when a world government had started, why religions of all types had been collectively abandoned, why one language (Common Speak) had come to prevail, and why people were encouraged to curtail their emotions, hence the start of the ERR program. The past had been downplayed, too, because it was believed its grievances would stir people's passions and cause the cycle of violence to continue.

By now Felix was delirious. The room was spinning and, in the encompassing shadow, he forgot where he was, when he was … who he was. Visions hit home of exploding buildings, dead gladiators, his father's corpse, and crowds of people, billions of souls, breaking out in red spots and breathing their last. At one point he saw Flaccus again, flinched as light glittered off his blade, and could feel cold steel slipping into his gut.

“Stop!” he yelled, striking out.

Part of him was horrorstruck. This wasn't any dream. Someone was above him and restraining his arms. Death. And a shank of metal was sticking in his flank, past his skin and muscle, past his pancreas and kidney, to release a witch's brew that burned each cell in its path. Death. He tried to speak, but the pain cut him off. Death. He punched again then darkness absorbed him, like a rogue wave sweeping over a ship and dragging its passengers and crew to sea bottom.

“Death,” he whispered, with the last of his breath.

There was nothing. The world had stopped revolving; light and time itself had ceased. He was nowhere and everywhere, and past and future were rolled together.

Except … Was it his imagination or was someone calling?

“Felix, Felix, Felix,” it repeated.

“Leave me alone,” he muttered. “I'm supposed to be dead.”

“Wake up, Felix,” the voice insisted. It sounded a lot like Carolyn. Something slapped his cheek, not just once but several times. His eyes fluttered open and, yes, she was looming above him. Instead of her
palla
, she was dressed in jeans and an old sweatshirt. She was also carrying a primitive laptop. And light was flooding into the room: the sky was blue and achingly pretty.

“It's about time you awoke.”

“What's going on? How …?”

Smiling thinly, she recounted how she'd fixed everything. Her priority had been to visit the lab. Waiting until the staff had left for the evening, she had entered it using a card she had “lifted” — from that woman she'd collided with the day before. Despite the lab's outdated equipment, she had “brewed” a measure of recombinative tissue. In the dark of night she'd entered his unit and injected him with this restorative mix. To judge by his complexion, it had taken effect.

“I do feel better,” Felix admitted. “My wound isn't nearly as sore.”

“Just take it easy,” Carolyn warned. “You'll spend another day here and we'll discuss our next step.”

She was about to leave and get them breakfast, when the nurse from the previous day entered the room. In contrast to her pleasant expression, she was frowning now and bristling with suspicions. In fact, she was blocking the door with her frame.

“Why did you mention them yesterday?” she spat.

“Mention what?” Felix asked.

“The twin towers. They've been attacked. And you knew that they would be — I could see it on your face. You're a terrorist, aren't you? An inside man or something.”

“This is ridiculous,” Felix said, half rising from the bed. The nurse took this as a threatening sign and backed toward the door.

“Stay where you are. I'm calling in security.”

But even as she spoke, the PA system announced her name. It directed her to proceed to ER 6 as a wave of casualties was streaming in. With a hard expression, she stepped toward the door. Before exiting, she spun and hissed at the pair, “This isn't over!” That said, she left and locked the door behind her.

“We have to leave,” Carolyn said matter-of-factly. Without another word, she opened a window and ducked outside. As Felix struggled to his feet, she returned moments later through the unit's door with pants, a sweater, and runners in hand: the sweater still had a hanger stuck inside it. Understanding she had scaled the wall and entered the building through a nearby window, Felix grinned and slipped into the pants.

“Put the rest on later. We have to leave.”

She ushered him from the room and down a hallway. His wound was raw and he couldn't move quickly, but he didn't want her carrying him again. As it turned out, they'd vacated the room just in time. Two guards were already closing in on the unit.

“This way,” Carolyn said, entering a stairwell. With some help from her, he could navigate the stairs. His wound felt as if a dog were biting him, but he was glad to be up and moving about. Maybe death wasn't ready to claim him yet.

They reached the ground floor and emerged from the stairwell. Felix was wearing the sweater and runners and was still clutching onto the hanger — he was thinking it might come in handy later. They rounded another corner and Carolyn pinched him: thirty metres in front of them was the hospital's main exit. Personnel were rushing back and forth as ambulances and taxicabs dropped dust-stained, coughing people off.

“It's perfect,” Carolyn murmured. “They won't notice us leave.”

Straightening their clothes, they drew near the exit, sidestepping nurses, orderlies, and doctors who were frantically trying to deal with the wounded. Halfway to their destination, a light above the exit flashed and an alarm sounded shrilly. The guard lifted a phone, listened intently, then jumped to his feet and started scanning the crowd. Seconds later, his eyes took them in. He spoke into the phone and strolled aggressively toward them.

“Keep walking,” Carolyn said, handing him the laptop she was carrying. “Don't break your stride and don't look back.”

He followed her instructions. There was the sound of a body being tossed to the floor and he understood she had “handled” the guard. A moment later there were two more thuds — friends of the guard had been similarly dispatched. Resisting the temptation to glance behind, he pushed a door open and passed outside.

The air was delicious. The temperature was perfect and the sky was beautiful — the segment of sky to the north of them at least. Down south it was a different story. Huge plumes of greenish grey hung over the city, like vampires intent on sucking blood from their victims. The streets, too, were packed with traffic, none of it southbound except for fire trucks and police cars. Pedestrians overcrowded the sidewalks, as an enormous chain of men and women were intent on escaping the chaos downtown. They were silent for the most part, dust-covered and confused. Sirens were reverberating faintly in the distance and seemed to tear the very air in two. As Felix examined the crowd in fascination, Carolyn approached.

“Ten more guards are coming,” she warned him.

Wordlessly, he started walking, the laptop and wire hanger in hand. At the end of the block, he turned the corner and looked around. There. Ten metres ahead of him lay the entrance to a parking lot. With Carolyn urging him to hurry up, he led her past an empty booth — the guard was probably watching events unfold — and headed down a spiral driveway. Sprawled before them was a selection of cars. Felix eyed them carefully, searching for one with a nondescript exterior. He found what he was after: a dark grey compact with shaded windows.

“It's locked,” Carolyn said, trying the door. “What now?”

“You'll see.” Felix handed her the laptop and straightened the hanger. He then manoeuvred its hook past the window's weatherstripping and snaked it into the door's interior. Fishing around carefully, he latched onto the locking bar and drew it back with a loud, metallic click. The door opened smoothly.

“Climb in. Quick.”

“But what about the engine?”

“Don't worry about that. Check the glove compartment — that little box in front of you — and see if there are any tools inside.”

Wrestling with the steering wheel, he ripped its access cover off. He then groped about carefully until he found two wires whose insulation he scratched, thereby exposing the underlying metal. Twisting these together, his fingers teased another wire out which he brushed against the other two. There was a sputtering sound and he pressed down on the gas. The engine came to life.

“Amazing,” Carolyn cried. “And I found some scissors. Will they help?”

Felix pressed the scissors' blades into a crack between the wheel and steering column. Applying force to their handles, he disengaged a pin. Formerly locked, the wheel turned easily. Carolyn was impressed.

“Where did you learn these tricks?” she asked, “It wasn't from reading Virgil, I'll bet.”

“I spent lots of time in the car museum,” he grunted. “The curator liked me and taught me things — how to drive cars, how to fix them, how to steal one in a pinch. I never thought I'd be able to put his lessons to use.”

“We're just in time,” Carolyn said, pointing to their right. Sure enough, several guards had appeared and were scouring the space for signs of the pair. As Felix eased the compact forward, one guard glanced in their direction. Unable to see past the shaded glass, he shrugged his shoulders and let them pass. Carefully, Felix drove toward the exit, expecting to hear shouts or maybe even gunshots. There was nothing.

Moments later they joined the northbound traffic and were just one of thousands of cars on the road.

Chapter Eleven

F
elix climbed outside the car and surveyed his surroundings. After navigating Manhattan for at least three hours, they had finally left the island via the George Washington Bridge. They had headed along the New Jersey Turnpike until the needle on the gas gauge had dipped close to empty and they'd been forced to exit near a large shopping complex. An enormous building stood some fifty metres off, full of stores and restaurants and movie theatres, yet the place was dead. People had gone home because of the attacks in New York City. With her retinal upgrades, Carolyn could see smoke in the east, ghostly remnants from the obliterated towers.

“This is it,” Felix asked. “Do you think it will work?”