Shift - Omnibus Edition (18 page)

‘Nice and easy,’ the doctor said.

He led Troy to the exit; he would embalm him with that bright blue sky. The pods slid by as the two of them walked in silence.

The man from Security took deep breaths as he filled the doorway, his great chest heaving against his overalls. There was a squeak from more boots as he was joined by another. Troy saw that his shift was over. Two weeks to go. He’d nearly made it.

The doctor waved the large men out of the way, seemed to hope they wouldn’t be needed. They took up positions to either side, seemed to think otherwise. Troy was led down the hallway, hope guiding him and fear flanking him.

‘You
know
, don’t you?’ Troy asked the doctor, turning to study him. ‘You remember everything.’

The doctor didn’t turn to face him. He simply nodded.

This felt like a betrayal. It wasn’t fair.

‘Why are you allowed to remember?’ Troy asked. He wanted to know why those dispensing the medicine didn’t have to take some of their own.

The doctor waved him into his office. His assistant was there, wearing a sleepshirt and hanging an IV bag bulging with blue liquid.

‘Some of us remember,’ the doctor said, ‘because we know this isn’t a bad thing we’ve done.’ He frowned as he helped Troy onto the gurney. He seemed truly sad about Troy’s condition. ‘We’re doing good work here,’ he said. ‘We’re saving the world, not ending it. And the medicine only touches our regrets.’ He glanced up. ‘Some of us don’t have any.’

The doorway was stuffed with security. It overflowed. The assistant unbuckled Troy’s overalls. Troy watched numbly.

‘It would take a different kind of drug to touch what
we
know,’ the doctor said. He pulled a clipboard from the wall. A sheet of paper was fed into its jaws. There was a pause, and then a pen was pressed into Troy’s palm.

Troy laughed as he signed off on himself.

‘Then why me?’ he asked. ‘Why am I here?’ He had always wanted to ask this of someone who might know. These were the prayers of youth, but now with a chance of some reply.

The doctor smiled and took the clipboard. He was probably in his late twenties, had come on shift just a few weeks ago. Troy was a few years shy of forty. And yet this man had all the wisdom, all the answers.

‘It’s good to have people like you in charge,’ the doctor said, and he seemed to genuinely mean it. The clipboard was returned to its peg. One of the security men yawned and covered his mouth. Troy watched as his coveralls were unsnapped and flopped to his waist. A fingernail makes a distinctive click when it taps against a needle.

‘I’d like to think about this,’ Troy said. He felt a sudden panic wash over him. He knew this needed to happen, but wanted just a few more minutes alone with his thoughts, to savor this brief bout of comprehension. He wanted to sleep, certainly, but not quite yet.

The men in the doorway stirred as they sensed Troy’s doubts, could see the fear in his eyes.

‘I wish there was some other way,’ the doctor said sadly. He rested a hand on Troy’s shoulder, guided him back against the table. The men from Security stepped closer.

There was a prick on his arm, a deep bite without warning. He looked down and saw the silver barb slide into his vein, the bright blue liquid pumped inside.

‘I don’t want—’ he said.

There were hands on his shins, his knees, weight on his shoulders. The heaviness against his chest was from something else.

A burning rush flowed through his body, chased immediately by numbness. They weren’t putting him to sleep.
They were killing him
. Troy knew this as suddenly and swiftly as he knew that his wife was dead, that some other person had tried to take her place. He would go into a coffin
for good
this time. And all the dirt piled over his head would finally serve some purpose.

Darkness squeezed in around his vision. He closed his eyes, tried to yell for it to stop, but nothing came out. He wanted to kick and fight it, but more than mere hands had a hold of him now. He was sinking.

His last thoughts were of his beautiful wife, but the thoughts made little sense – they were the dream world invading.

She’s in Tennessee
, he thought. He didn’t know why or how he knew this. But she was there – and waiting. She was already dead and had a spot hollowed out by her side just for him.

Troy had just one more question, one name he hoped to grope for and seize before he went under, some part of himself to take with him to those depths. It was on the tip of his tongue like a bitter pill, so close that he could taste it—

But then he forgot.

23

2052

Fulton County, Georgia

The rain finally let up just as warring announcements and battling tunes filled the air above the teeming hills. While the main stage was prepped for the evening’s gala, it sounded to Donald as though the real action was taking place at all the other states. Opening bands ripped into their sets as the buzz of ATVs subsided to a trickle.

It felt vaguely claustrophobic to be down in the bottom of the bowl by the Georgia stage. Donald sensed an unquenchable urge for height, to be up on the ridge where he could see what was going on. It left him imagining the sight of thousands of guests arrayed across each of the hills, picturing the political fervor in the air everywhere, the gelling of like-minded families celebrating the promise of something new.

As much as Donald wanted to celebrate new beginnings with them, he was mostly looking forward to the
end
. He couldn’t wait for the convention to wrap up. The weeks had worn on him. He was looking forward to a real bed, to some privacy, his computer, reliable phone service, dinners out and, most of all: time alone with his wife.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he checked his messages for the umpteenth time. They were minutes away from the anthem, and then the flyover from the 141st. He had also heard someone mention fireworks to start the convention off with a bang.

His phone showed that the last half-dozen messages still hadn’t gone through. The network was clogged, an error message popping up that he’d never seen before. At least some of the earlier ones looked as if they’d been sent. He scanned the wet banks for her, hoping to see her making her way down, a smile he could spot from any distance.

Someone stepped up beside him. Donald looked away from the hills to see that Anna had joined him by the stage.

‘Here we go,’ she said quietly, scanning the crowd.

She looked and sounded nervous. Maybe it was for her father, who had done so much to arrange the main stage and make sure everyone was in the right place. Glancing back, he saw that people were taking their seats, chairs wiped down from the morning drizzle, not nearly as many people as it seemed before. They must be either working in the tents or off to the other stages. This was the quiet brewing before the—

‘
There
she is.’

Anna waved her arms. Donald felt his heart swell up into his neck as he turned and followed Anna’s gaze. His relief was mixed with the panic of Helen seeing him there with her, the two of them waiting side by side.

Shuffling down the hill was certainly someone familiar. A young woman in a pressed blue uniform, a hat tucked under one arm, a dark head of hair wrapped up in a crisp bun.

‘Charlotte?’ Donald shielded his eyes from the glare of the noonday sun filtering through wispy clouds. He gaped in disbelief. All other events and concerns melted away as his sister spotted them and waved back.

‘She sure as hell cut this close,’ Anna muttered.

Donald hurried over to his four-wheeler and turned the key. He hit the ignition, gave the handle some gas, and raced across the wet grass to meet her.

Charlotte beamed as he hit the brakes at the base of the hill. He killed the engine.

‘Hey, Donny.’

His sister leaned in to him before he could dismount. She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed.

He returned her embrace, worried about denting the creases of her neat uniform. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked.

She let go and took a step back, smoothed the front of her shirt. The air force dress hat disappeared back under her arm, every motion like an ingrained and precise habit.

‘Are you surprised?’ she asked. ‘I thought the Senator would’ve let it slip by now.’

‘Hell, no. Well, he said something about a visitor but not who. I thought you were in Iran. Did he swing this?’

She nodded, and Donald felt his cheeks cramping from smiling so hard. Every time he saw her, there came a relief from discovering that she was still the same person. The sharp chin and splash of freckles across her nose, the shine in her eyes that had not yet dulled from the horrible things she’d seen. She had just turned thirty, had been half a world away with no family on her birthday, but she was frozen in his mind as the young teen who had enlisted.

‘I think I’m supposed to be on the stage for this thing tonight,’ she said.

‘Of course.’ Donald smiled. ‘I’m sure they’ll want you on camera. You know, to show support for the troops.’

Charlotte frowned. ‘Oh, God, I’m one of
those
people, aren’t I?’

He laughed. ‘I’m sure they’ll have someone from the army, navy, and marines there with you.’

‘Oh, God. And I’m the
girl
.’

They laughed together, and one of the bands beyond the hills finished their set. Donald scooted forward and told his sister to hop on, his chest suddenly less constricted. There had been a shift in the weather, these breaking clouds, the quieting stages, and now the arrival of family.

He cranked the engine and raced through the least muddy path on the way back to the stage, his sister holding on tight behind him. They pulled up beside Anna, his sister hopping off and into her arms. While they chatted, Donald killed the ignition and checked his phone for messages. Finally, one had gotten through.

Helen: In Tennessee. where r u?

There was a jarring moment as his brain tried to make sense of the message. It was from Helen. What the hell was she doing in
Tennessee
?

Another stage fell silent. It took only a heartbeat or two for Donald to realize that she wasn’t hundreds of miles away. She was just over the hill. None of his messages about meeting at the Georgia stage had gone through.

‘Hey, I’ll be right back.’

He cranked the ATV. Anna grabbed his wrist.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

He smiled. ‘Tennessee. Helen just texted me.’

Anna glanced up at the clouds. His sister was inspecting her hat. On the stage, a young girl was being ushered up to the mic. She was flanked by a color guard, and the seats facing the stage were filling up, necks stretched with anticipation.

Before he could react or put the ATV in gear, Anna reached across, twisted the key and pulled it out of the ignition.

‘Not now,’ she said.

Donald felt a flash of rage. He reached for her hands, for the key, but it disappeared behind her back.

‘Wait,’ she hissed.

Charlotte had turned toward the stage. Senator Thurman stood with a microphone in hand, the young girl, maybe sixteen, beside him. The hills had grown deathly quiet. Donald realized what a racket the ATV had been making. The girl was about to sing.

‘
Ladies and gentlemen, fellow Democrats—
’

There was a pause. Donald got off the four-wheeler, took a last glance at his phone, then tucked it away.

‘
—and our handful of Independents.
’

Laughter from the crowd. Donald set off at a jog across the flat at the bottom of the bowl. His shoes squished in the wet grass and the thin layer of mud. Senator Thurman’s voice continued to roar through the microphone:

‘
Today is the dawn of a new era, a new time.
’

He was out of shape, his shoes growing heavy with mud.

‘
As we gather in this place of future independence—
’

By the time the ground sloped upward, he was already winded.

‘
—I’m reminded of the words from one of our enemies. A Republican.
’

Distant laughter, but Donald paid no heed. He was concentrating on the climb.

‘
It was Ronald Reagan who once said that freedom must be fought for, that peace must be earned. As we listen to this anthem, written a long time ago as bombs dropped and a new country was forged, let’s consider the price paid for our freedom and ask ourselves if any cost could be too great to ensure that these liberties never slip away.
’

A third of the way up – and Donald had to stop and catch his breath. His calves were going to give out before his lungs did. He regretted puttering around on the ATV the past weeks while some of the others slogged it on foot. He promised himself he’d get in better shape.

He started back up the hill, and a voice like ringing crystal filled the bowl. It spilled in synchrony over the looming rise. He turned toward the stage below where the national anthem was being sung by the sweetest of young voices—

And he saw Anna hurrying up the hill after him, a scowl of worry on her face.

Donald knew he was in trouble. He wondered if he was dishonoring the anthem by scurrying up the hill. Everyone had assigned places for the anthem and he was ignoring his. He turned his back on Anna and set off with renewed resolve.

‘
—o’er the ramparts we watched—
’

He laughed, out of breath, wondering if these mounds of earth could be considered ramparts. It was easy to see the bowls for what they’d become in the last weeks, individual states full of people, goods and livestock, fifty state fairs bustling at once, all for this shining day, all to be gone once the facility was up and running.

‘
—and the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air—
’

He reached the top of the hill and sucked in deep lungfuls of crisp, clean air. On the stage below, flags swayed idly in a soft breeze. A large screen showed a video of the girl singing about
proof
and
still being there
.