Shadowline Drift: A Metaphysical Thriller (16 page)

Maybe the truth was whatever Jake made it.

Maybe the truth was that there was no truth—that he
’d wake up in his bed in San Francisco, in his apartment with the footstool in the bathroom and the grabber in the kitchen.

The trail disappeared. He moved on, broken branch to torn leaf—his own little Hansel and Gretel breadcrumb road—until he realized it had been a while since he
’d seen either. His pulse raced in his ears. He and Mawgis had zigzagged through the forest, traveling vaguely west, then north, then south, circling around trees, sudden water holes, and impassable undergrowth. Even if he could see the sun, blocked from his view now by a thousand trees, he couldn’t guess in what direction the compound lay.

Thirty
paces in any direction, he decided. Thirty out, looking for a marker, thirty back to his starting point, and then thirty in another direction. There were only so many directions he could try, only so many openings in the lush greenery.

On the third try, he found a broken branch. A bit elevated to be the one he
’d broken, chest-high rather than at his waist, but he was sure it was the right one. He must have reached up without realizing it during the run. Jake kept moving, and
found another branch. He touched the broken branch as he passed it, bringing his hand up beside his ear.

His steps slowed. A torn leaf, maybe ten steps from the last branch, was shoulder-high. The next branch, cracked and hanging loose, was in line with his jaw. The compound was near.
Had he reached up, grabbing at high branches and leaves as he’d knocked along, pulled by Mawgis through the woods? He didn’t remember it that way, but he didn’t remember reaching out waist-high each time, either.

He could hear the
women singing now, their voices carrying on the breeze. He could pick out Naheyo’s voice, lower than her speaking tone. His feet stopped moving. What would they see when he stepped onto the cane field—the Jake they’d become used to or the small man who’d first stumbled out of the forest? What would Pilar see?

He walked the last steps to the edge of the clearing and stopped again, standing half
-hidden by a group of feathery-leafed ferns, his skin hot with nerves. Naheyo and the Helpers sat in a circle, chanting. Pilar held a camera. She turned and caught sight of him. Her mouth dropped open. The camera thudded in the dirt.

In the Manaus airport, everyone seemed to have a mobile phone in hand. A pay phone was hard to find. When Jake did find a bank of them, they offered no privacy, lining the wall outside the public restrooms. He begged a coin from a stranger for the collect call to Ashne Simapole at World United. A symphony of languages floated around him, but it was likely that many of the people standing near also spoke English. He cupped his hand over the mouthpiece to keep his words as hidden from other ears as possible, and listened to the line ringing and his heart beating overtime.

He heard what he
’d expected in Ashne’s voice. His friend, and employer on this job, listened to all Jake said, asked questions, and said he’d look into it, but Jake knew his words hadn’t taken root. Things would go better in San Francisco, he hoped. Face to face was always better.

“
I’ll arrange a passport, plane ticket, and access to some cash for you,” Ashne said, his voice distant and distracted. “We’ll talk when you get here.”

In the
duty-free shop, Jake bought shampoo, a razor, a tourist T-shirt, and a pair of pants. He shaved in the men’s room, other travelers shifting around him, maneuvering luggage. There wasn’t time for a haircut, but he washed his hair as best he could in the sink, dried it beneath the hot-air hand dryer, and pulled it into a short ponytail with a hair tie. He stood a moment, taking in a sight he had never seen in a mirror set for adults—his own face, neck, shoulders, and part of his chest. He wondered if the view would ever feel ordinary to him.

Jake was almost calm now, accepting what he saw in the mirror. Not like that moment at the edge of the cane field, fear pulsing in his blood,
as he watched Pilar coming toward him, that look on her face that could have meant anything—shock, revulsion, relief. The moment she leaned against him, the top of her head resting under his chin. The rush of joy so strong he nearly lost his balance, knees buckling under the weight of liberation. The moment he knew he was Tall Jake, and wasn’t going to be anything else ever again.

Thinking about it now, though—
Tall Jake wasn’t quite right. He was Jake, who happened to be tall. He nodded to the man washing his hands at the next sink over. The man barely nodded back, paying him scant attention. Jake walked out of the men’s room and into the crush of people heading to and from the gateways.

The seats in the lounge area were mostly empty. The flight would be boarding in ten minutes. People had already formed a queue—casually dressed men and women. A gaggle of tired-looking teenagers, their identical blue backpacks in a pile at their feet. Two priests in black. A young couple, the woman rocking a baby while the man folded up a stroller. Ashne had secured a first class seat for him. He waited for the call to board ahead of those in line.

How
had he grown? That question pricked at him. It moved through his mind not like a leaf in a vortex, going round and round, but like a mountain goat, leaping from point to point, never settling on one spot—popping up repeatedly, even after he’d promised himself to let it go, to stop thinking about it.

Maybe
he had done it himself—strength of will, like Mawgis had said—overriding whatever height had been programmed into his DNA. Stopped it when he was five and started it again now, just by wanting. Maybe it was a disease that had stunted his growth, the story in his mind about his fear of outgrowing his mother’s lap just a coincidence in time. A disease that had been cured by some factor in the forest—something he ate, or an unknown property in one of the salves or unguents Naheyo had slathered on him.

Hell, maybe it was benesha. He
’d started growing after the first benesha trip, the visit to Delacort. A substance that allowed users to psychically travel, increased protein values in meat, and poisoned humans on a set time scale could likely do other things too. Had benesha kicked in hormones long dormant in his body? If benesha was the cause, had Mawgis known it would have that effect?

The
first class passengers were called to board. Jake stood just as the woman at the podium called his name, asking him to step to the counter.

“
This has come for you from the American consulate,” she said, and smiled as she handed him a passport, no differently than she had smiled at any of the other passengers. “You can board now.”

He thanked her, and in his mind thanked Ashne,
and walked up the Jetway, promising himself yet again that he’d stop asking the same unanswerable questions. The flight was long. He needed to spend those hours thinking about what to say to Ashne when they met—how to convince his friend to give up the prime achievement of his life.

The flight attendants stood by the plane’s opened door, thanking the passengers, wishing them a good day as people deplaned. Jake nodded as he passed them—his hands empty of luggage or even an overnight bag, his breath pressed up tight against his chest—and walked down the Jetway and into the terminal. He scanned the crowd, looking for Ashne’s familiar brown face, and the stance he habitually took when waiting—feet apart, hands behind his back.

Jake
spotted him and saw that his friend was looking down, the way an adult does, waiting for a child to deplane. His feet slowed. This moment had to come—the moment when someone from his old life would be confronted by his changed body. Jake raised his hand and waved, but Ashne’s gaze didn’t reach high enough to catch it. Jake slipped up and stood next to him, Ashne still peering at the deplaning passengers.

“
Hey,” he said quietly.

Ashne
’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. His fists clenched and his arms came up in a fight-or-flight burst, and Jake flinched, as Ashne’s brain tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

People flowed around them. Friends and family members hugging, business people shaking hands,
solo passengers striding with determined steps toward baggage claim. Voices came through the PA, announcing final boardings and flights arriving.

Jake waited. He looked as presentable and professional as he could manage,
but it wasn’t his rough appearance that threw his friend. If he were still the small man whom Ashne had seen off at the airport months before, his friend and employer would have made some light comment about this new style Jake had adopted—small talk until they could get to their real business, and that would have been it. Instead, Ashne gaped at him, as surprised as if a friendly bear had sidled up beside him in the airport. Was he going to see that same fear and confusion in his brother’s eyes, his parents’ faces?

Ashne lowered his arms. He opened his mouth
to speak, then shut it again.

“
I think we need a drink,” Jake said.

A thin nod from Ashne
. “More than one, I’d say.” His eyes flicked back and forth between Jake’s face and his feet.

“
Mawgis’s doing,” Jake said. He still didn’t know if that were true or not, but if it helped convince Ashne, it was a good thing. He watched understanding catch light in his friend’s eyes, the dark sheen of accepting something he didn’t much like. Jake nodded to confirm what he knew Ashne was thinking. “Everything I told you on the phone is true.”

“
Benesha is a poison,” Ashne said, his teeth barely parting for the words to escape.

“
I know how crazy it sounds, but no more crazy than my standing here in front of you, six feet tall.”

The light in Ashne
’s eyes changed. “You could have warned me about that. My God, Jake, I thought you were dead. I was devastated. We all were. Thank the heavens you’re alive. But you come back—” He lifted his arms in the air. “You’ve come back as someone else.”

He turned and walked away
fast, shaking his head.

“
Ash,” Jake said, and caught up with him. “I’m not someone else. I’m the same man you’ve known for years. I didn’t return with what you wanted, but I came back knowing the truth.” He grabbed his friend’s arm and dragged him toward a wall. “You have to believe me. At least consider it.”

Ashne
’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been considering it since you called.”

“
And?”

A long sigh, and Ashne turned and started walking again,
more slowly this time, and motioned with his head for Jake to come too. They walked the long corridor toward the baggage area, almost to the exit doors, neither of them speaking.

A man and a boy ran past them, going the other direction, each pulling
a suitcase on wheels. Ashne turned his head to watch them. Jake wondered if he was thinking of his own youngest child, a girl about the same age as the running boy. Or was Ashne thinking about the man and his rush to reach some destination that was merely a takeoff point for a new one? That must be what heading World United was like—always a crisis somewhere, always people in desperate need. No wonder Ashne clung so tightly to benesha’s promise.

“
There are rumors,” Ashne said finally, “that some of the scientists working with benesha couldn’t resist trying the miracle meat themselves. Three of the original researchers have died. One was due to complications from diabetes, and frankly, not unexpected. Two were complete surprises. Heart attacks in otherwise healthy, youngish adults, ages thirty-seven and forty-three.” He leaned against the wall.

“
Benesha,” Jake said.

“
It can’t be ignored.” Ashne’s voice was rough. “As crazy as your story is, it must be considered and explored. All distribution of benesha meat will be suspended until benesha’s absolute safety is established.”

“
Or not,” Jake said.

“
Or not.”

Jake kept the smile off his face,
hiding the relief flooding through him.

“
You have the antidote?” Ashne asked.

“
I have what Mawgis gave me. In my pocket.”

The nod Ashne gave him was
tiny. “I’ll phone the lab and tell them we’re coming.”

They stood together, both men in shirtsleeves, though the day was cool. Ashne was shorter than he was, and Jake could see the other man still wasn’t used to it by the way Ashne would look down and then pull his head up when he turned to speak to him. They both pretended not to notice. The heat radiating from the building was more than warm. They couldn’t hear the flames inside, licking away at flesh and bone, but saw the steady plume of gray smoke rising from the vents in the roof. The air smelled heavy, tinged with the scent of gas. They stood, with few words between them, watching as truckloads of dead chickens, rabbits, ducks, and goats arrived. Fires like this one burned in the seven countries where animals had been fed benesha. In other places, chemicals turned flesh and bone to slush.

Ashne sighed deeply.
“Chances are we won’t be able to find every individual who’s eaten benesha meat. In Africa, South America—some of those people live far outside the villages where the meat was distributed. We’re doing our best and have reached most of them, but I’m afraid there’ll be some we miss. There will be more deaths.”

Jake nodded. He
’d reasoned that out, too. But some deaths were better than hundreds of thousands.

He
’d known Ashne a long time and seen his severely pragmatic side before. He supposed someone like Ashne would have to be like that, overseeing the parceling out of food and medicine to the desperate, making decisions that might mean who lived and who didn’t. It wasn’t a job Jake would have wanted.

“
But the antidote worked for those who got it,” Jake said.

Ashne
crossed his arms over his chest. “Fools, those scientists, trying out the miracle meat on themselves. But it did tell us how long the incubation period was.” He turned to Jake. “Some took it home to their families. Can you imagine?”

“
They didn’t know,” Jake said.

“
No, they didn’t. And it turned out to be almost a blessing, since we could try the antidote on people who’d eaten the meat far enough in advance to be almost at the point it would kill them. We could know that it worked.”

They stood quietly as another truck rolled up, as m
en came out of the incinerator building and helped the driver unload crates of carcasses.

“
When is your flight?” Ashne asked when the men had finished and the truck had driven away.

“
Three and a half hours. My bags are in the car.”

“
Boston, is it?”

Jake nodded.
“Pilar left her research early. She’s been in the States awhile.”

I
t was his fault. Not that Pilar had said so—he didn’t think she blamed him—but he knew Naheyo did. When he and the shaman had stood together at the edge of the river, Knonee waiting to take him to Catalous, he’d tried to thank Naheyo for arranging the ride. He’d known she was angry, the way she chattered at him one moment and pulled a face and showed him her back the next. The only word he’d understood was
Pilar
.