Near Death (39 page)

Emily nodded. “But Jung also said, ‘Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol, morphine or idealism.’”

Alex clapped in appreciation. “Bravo! I’m blown away.”

“I knew you liked Jung,” she said slyly. “I looked it up before I came.”

Cyrus looked disgusted. “So, in the name of saving the world, you’re willing to give people Bliss against their wills? You’re—” He was about to level the murder accusation, but Emily had urged him to hold that in abeyance, especially in front of his supporters. “You’re
threatening the world and scaring millions with this melodramatic countdown?”

“As a doctor, I know that curative therapies often have side effects.”

“So tomorrow at ten, you’re going to be announcing the cure,” Cyrus said contemptuously.

“Something like that.”

“I’ll stop you.”

“You can’t, Cyrus. It’s unstoppable. Bliss is unstoppable. You shut down Miguel Cifuentes and guess what? A dozen Miguels took his place. From the moment I discovered it, as long as man now exists, Bliss will exist too. Come on, it’s a beautiful day. Let me show you around New Rising City.”

Cyrus was struck by several things during their afternoon walkabout. The first was the adoration for Alex. Being at his side was like walking with the Chosen One. People tumbled out of their tents and campers, scrambling to speak to him, touch him, be touched. A crowd of children followed wherever they went and their parents happily let them.

Then there was the encampment. It was orderly and peaceful, not the crazed lawless affair that Cuccio and others were postulating. You couldn’t glean from the air
that most everyone on the Bolz farm was salt of the earth: working people; families. This wasn’t a Woodstock by any stretch of the imagination. There wasn’t even a scrap of litter!

Lastly, Cyrus was sobered by the raw, animal power of the Apache helicopters resting on a patch like buzzards sunning themselves. The crews, polite and earnest, gave him a tour of their armaments and avionics. Their squadron leader, Major Thomas, told Cyrus, “I never thought I’d do what I did but after Bliss, all my old ways of thinking changed. I hope they don’t try anything. I don’t want to shoot at my friends—but if they come, I will take to the air and I will defend Alex Weller.”

Emily hung back and strolled with Jessie at first, trying to get her to talk about herself and her relationship with Alex. Jessie, though, was uncomfortable around Emily and reticent, as if scared to open up. All she’d repeat was that she loved him very much, trusted him completely, and would follow wherever he led; and then she begged off and said she had to go back and start seeing to dinner.

Emily walked alone for a while until Sam drifted to her side and smiled at her.

“Hi,” he said, his cheeks dimpling.

“Hi. So what did Alex say, you’re the computer guy?”

“I guess so.”

“How long have you known him?”

“I met him just before he discovered Bliss.”

“You were interested in his salon?”

“Not at first. I followed a girl, Erica. She was in Bar Harbor. She was one who got killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s on the other side. She’s happier than we are, that’s for sure.”

“You’re not happy?”

“There’s a lot of tension. The farm, the countdown, you know?”

“What’s going to happen tomorrow, Sam?”

“Please don’t ask me that.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I won’t ask again. I imagine you’ve taken Bliss.”

“Tons of times.”

“And your experiences are profound?”

“Amazing.”

“And who’s there for you?”

“My father.”

“When did he pass away?”

“When I was a kid. He was robbed and knifed on his way
home from work.”

“How terrible, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I love being with him when I’m on Bliss.”

“But you’ve never contemplated suicide.”

“Doesn’t appeal to me, but I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Meaning … ?”

“Meaning nothing. I don’t know why I said it that way.”

“Do you have brothers and sisters?”

“No, just my ma.”

“Does she know you’re a big wheel in the IPC?”

“Yeah, she knows. She didn’t like it before.”

“Before what?”

“Before she took Bliss herself.”

“She wanted to see your father too?”

“She didn’t want any part of it. Alex put some in her tea.”

She stopped walking. “Really!”

Sam sighed. “Yeah, that’s what he did.”

“How did that make you feel?”

“I was pretty mad, but as usual he was right. She changed her mind about Bliss after taking it. Like Alex says, with Bliss, the end always justifies the means.”

In the guest room Cyrus and Emily took off their backpacks and lay on the bed. The walls were thin and they could hear Alex and the others talking excitedly in the kitchen. They kept their own voices low.

“I think this is pointless,” Cyrus said. “He’s not going to surrender.”

“It’s not likely,” Emily agreed. “He’s got himself a flaming God complex going.”

“Maybe I should grab a steak knife and just kill the sonuvabitch.”

“That’s so not you,” she said wearily.

“If you weren’t here, I’d be considering it. Look, if we don’t make any headway this evening, let’s get out of here by ten and report back to Cuccio tonight.”

“Alex is too far gone, but Sam and Jessie—Sam especially—might be vulnerable to reason. That’s where we should press. I want to get Sam alone again.”

“Go for it,” Cyrus said. “Do your magic.”

Jessie knocked on their door at dinnertime. They took sandwiches, fruit, and water from their backpacks and slid the bags under the bed.

The beef stew and boiled potatoes smelled good but Cyrus and Emily chomped on their dry sandwiches and
listened to Alex’s animated speculation about what great men of history might have thought about Bliss.

After dinner, Emily tried to let Jessie help her with the dishes but she shook her long fiery hair and said, “I don’t want to talk to you, okay? You only want to hurt Alex. Leave me alone.”

Alex hoisted a bottle of wine and insisted that everyone assemble in the sitting room for a surprise that anticlimactically turned out to be a long piano concert by Erik Bolz’s wife, who had a serviceable repertoire of Bach, Mozart, and Chopin.

Cyrus spent the next hour fidgeting with his watch and playing out in his mind how an assault on the farm would go down. He knew he wouldn’t be part of the entry team but he looked forward to being asked to identify Weller’s body when the time came.

Emily sat next to Sam, who seemed to enjoy the attention of an attractive woman. Classical music clearly wasn’t his thing, and when he asked her if she wanted to take a walk she jumped at the chance.

It was the time of year when daytime warmth quickly dissipated and the nights were still frigid. He gave her his bomber jacket.

She waved toward the gaslights and cooking fires
stretching into the fields. “So many people,” she said. “It makes me incredibly sad.”

“What does?”

“That many of them might die tomorrow.”

He looked startled. “How did you know?”

“I was talking about the loss of life if Alex doesn’t yield and the authorities storm the farm. What were you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam, what’s Alex got planned for tomorrow? Please tell me. I won’t say a thing to him, I promise.”

“There’s going to be a call to action.”

“What kind of action?”

“Mass suicide. Alex thinks millions will do it if he asks them to.”

“Christ,” she whispered.

“Yeah, it’s heavy stuff.”

“What will you do?”

“If Alex goes, I’ll go too. I wouldn’t mind hanging with my dad.”

The air was filled with laughter on the wind. “What about all these people?”

“They’re here because they want to be here and everyone who offs themselves will do it because they want
to do it. No one’s going to force them.”

“What about the children?”

“In my mind that’s a little tricky,” Sam said. “But you know, ends justifying means? Remember?”

They went back inside and sat on the braided rug. Cyrus pointed to his watch and flashed his palms twice: he wanted to leave in twenty minutes. She nodded vigorously.

Cyrus got up to use the bathroom then went to the guest room and retrieved his backpack. There was one water bottle left, safely sealed. He cracked the cap and gulped at it, missing the glue-sealed puncture wound on the bottle neck.

Steve and Alex were following him with their eyes when he came back to the sitting room. Steve couldn’t suppress a grin at the sight of the three quarters–empty bottle in his hand.

Cyrus bent over Alex and said frostily, “We’re leaving soon. There’s no point in staying.”

Alex looked miffed. “Stay till LuAnn’s finished playing. You don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Fifteen minutes,” Cyrus said.

While she was midway through Mozart’s Rondo in A Minor Cyrus’s head began to feel heavy and an overwhelming urge to sleep overtook him. He tried to fight it, tried to
stand. He got halfway up.

Emily screamed when he hit the floor and then the music abruptly stopped.

Fifty-five

DAY ZERO

Cyrus awoke in Emily’s arms in the small hours of the night. They were alone in the guest room.

She audibly exhaled with relief when his eyes opened and she told him that she was there for him.

Tears pooled in his eyes and spilled from under the lids. He lay motionless, staring at the ceiling. “Tara,” he choked. “I was with her. She was jumping up and down the way she always does when she’s so excited she can’t stand it. I wanted to lift her up and hold her and tell her I love her but I couldn’t get to her, Emily. I couldn’t get all the way across.”

“Oh, Cyrus,” Emily said, stroking his hair. “Oh, baby.”

“I’ve got to get back there. I know she’s happy, but she’s all alone.” He stopped to think. “Well … not completely alone. There was something else there. I couldn’t see it but I felt it … it felt like God.”

There was a knock on the door and Alex came in.

“I heard voices. You’re back! How’s my patient?”

“Leave us alone,” Emily said angrily.

“No, stay,” Cyrus said, sitting up. “I saw Tara.”

Alex smiled. “How was she?”

“Beautiful … and healthy.”

“That’s good, Cyrus, I’m happy for you.”

“I want more.”

“More Bliss?”

“Yes.”

“You can have as much as you like.” He unzipped a fanny pack and tossed a handful of sticks on the bed. “You might want to wait till the morning. You took a fairly heavy dose. I didn’t know how much of the water you’d drink. Looks like you were thirsty.”

“It’s unconscionable,” Emily spat. “You’re despicable, Alex.”

“I like you Emily,” he said. “But I respectfully disagree. Ask Cyrus what he thinks.”

“I don’t care about him,” Cyrus said. “I want to be with my little girl.”

“I’ll take that as an endorsement,” Alex said, leaving. “See you bright and early. It’s going to be a fine day tomorrow.”

“We should go now,” Emily told Cyrus. “I can drive.”

Cyrus dropped back onto the pillow. “No, I want to stay,” he said weakly.

He moved his hand and found the pile of Bliss straws.

“No!” she shouted in alarm. “I’m not going to let you do that!”

“I can’t let her be alone. I’ve got to get to her.”

She grabbed both his hands and with unexpected strength pulled him to a sitting position then dragged his feet over the side of the bed. She stood over him, tilted his chin up, so he had to look her in the eyes. “Cyrus, listen to me. I’ve never taken Bliss and I don’t want to, but I don’t doubt the power of the experience you’ve just had.”

“It wasn’t an experience, it was real.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t and I’m not saying there’s no afterlife, and I’m not saying there’s no God. What I
am
saying is that children can die but their parents have to go on and live their lives for the sake of themselves and other people who love them. Your time will come, Cyrus, hopefully when you’re old, after an amazingly full life, full of love and books and poetry. And Tara will be there waiting for you, the same pretty little girl. That’s the way it’s meant to be.”

“Why wait?” he asked in a tone just above a whisper.

“Damn it, Cyrus!” She shook him. “Because of me. Because I love you and I don’t want to lose you. I’m begging you. Choose life. Choose me.”

He said nothing for half a minute but stared at her determined face and burning eyes. He sighed heavily. “If it weren’t for you, Emily Frost …”

She let him lie down and covered him with a blanket.

“Sleep now,” she said. “I’ll be next to you all night.”

Sunday morning began with a dawn as rich and beautiful as anyone could remember. Most of New Rising City was up, watching the rosy spectacle and watching the clock.

Emily hadn’t drawn the curtains that night, relying on the sun to wake her. Cyrus was curled on his side, breathing smoothly. She whispered close to his ear, “Cyrus, you’ve got to get up now.”

After a moment of disorientation, he asked, “What time is it?”

“Seven-forty. Cyrus, I need to tell you what Sam told me last night before they gave you the Bliss. At time zero a message is going out from Alex calling for mass suicides. Millions are going to die.”

He stood on wobbly legs. “We don’t have much time.”

There was an air of controlled chaos in the elementary school cafeteria. FBI personnel wearing headsets were stationed at computer terminals where live feeds from the helicopters were superimposed on map grids.

Bob Cuccio shouted to everyone and anyone, “Any word from O’Malley?”

In the silence that followed, he swore and said, “I shouldn’t have let him go in.”

“You made a command decision,” said General Kates.

“The wrong one. He could be dead already.”

“We’ve got thirty-five minutes till eight-fifteen,” Kates said. “When are we getting the final go decision from the White House?”

“At eight. Is everything set on your end?”

“I’ve got twelve Apaches airborne, holding over Columbus. They’ll take out the stray birds, hopefully while they’re still on the ground. We’ve got four M1A1 tanks positioned on the compass points around the farm, about a half mile from the perimeter, and sixteen Bradleys. The tanks and Bradleys are operated by DOJ personnel because of Posse Comitatus but I’ve got my combat engineers in the vicinity if we need their support.”