S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (60 page)

“I thought they were already done erecting on this side of Manorville.”

“I don't know!”

He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. “They were saying something on the radio about a problem south of Riverhead. Some kind of organized protest thing. Maybe that's what it was.”

He scratched his cheek. It was a sign of stress, an old nervous tic she'd tried to get him to break after they were first married. She thought she'd succeeded, as she hadn't seen him do it for a while.

He went over to a cabinet against the wall and picked up a photo in a frame. It was a copy of the same one they had hanging in the hallway at home: Cassie in the backyard with her new rabbit, the white dress with the crimson bow. It was the dress they'd bought for Remy's funeral and which she'd worn again a week later during the memorial reception at the house. He didn't know who'd taken the picture, just that it had suddenly shown up.

Their daughter was so beautiful in that photo, so radiant. The sunlight turned her hair into liquid gold. The sky was a brilliant blue, so intense that it almost hurt to look at. But it was the joy on their daughter's face which caught the eye, a truly rare moment of rhapsody which had miraculously found its way into the midst of their deepest grief.

A stranger looking at the photo would know nothing of the sadness of that day. They would see nothing but utter joy and serenity, never knowing that it was a trick, a lie.

The brain gives us these rare moments when we forget our pain.

He set the photograph back on the cabinet, unable to understand why Lyssa would torment herself with the image. She was sure to think about that day each time she saw it.

“I think there might be a frozen dinner or two in the staff room,” she told him. “If you're hungry.”

“I, uh . . . . Yeah, okay.”

“Good. I need to finish up this paperwork,” she said, dismissing him. “Next week's going to be busy.”

After he left, her thoughts went back to the discussion she'd had with the laboratory technician. She prayed they'd just made a mistake, that someone had punched in the wrong information on some computer somewhere and the results had gotten mixed up. But when she dug out the requisition, she suspected it wasn't a mistake after all. Was Drew doing some kind of secret experiment? And if so, why? She needed to talk to him. She needed him to answer the many questions she had.

She decided not to tell Ramon, not until she was sure there was a problem. She shuddered at the thought of him finding out. And he would eventually. If it turned out that Drew was doing something he wasn't supposed to, then the state and a half dozen agencies would come down hard on them. Ramon and Lyssa could claim innocence, but the audits and inspections would keep them closed for weeks, if not months. It would surely put them out of business.

Please
, she begged. Though to whom and for what she didn't know.

“Oh, one more thing,” Ramon said, appearing again at the door and startling her. “Let's take a drive down to the shore this weekend, camp on the beach. Just the three of us. We'll have a cookout and campfire. We haven't done that in a while.”

“Sure,” Lyssa answered cautiously. “That sounds like fun.”

She watched him leave again and knew it wouldn't happen. He'd conveniently forget or claim he was swamped with paperwork. And for once she was glad he was that way, because she needed to figure out what the hell was going on.

She picked up the phone and dialed Drew's number, but it went to voice mail.

Failing to get a hold of him, she called Heather.

The noise of the windshield wipers and rain on the roof of the car made it difficult to hear. Lyssa had her phone pressed tightly against her ear, silently urging Drew to pick up. Ramon was white-knuckling the steering wheel. The wipers, desperately in need of replacements, did little to clear the sheets of water flowing over them. As slowly as they were going, she still thought Ramon was pushing the limits of safety and wanted him to go slower. But she'd already asked him twice. Asking him a third time would only irritate him more. He hated being the one to hold up traffic.

The call connected. Or at least the ringing stopped.

Silence.

Lyssa pulled the phone away and checked the screen. The call timer was ticking away the seconds.

“Drew?”

She could hear noises, muffled sounds that could be him speaking, but the connection was terrible and the drumming of the rain too loud for her to be sure. She couldn't make out a single word.

“Drew, it's Lyssa. I don't know if you're getting this; I can't hear you. On the off chance you're there, we need to talk about—”

She glanced over at Ramon, but his attention was on the road, on the splotches of red light twinkling ahead of them.

“Well, first, I hope you're feeling better. Whatever's going around is nasty. Half the crew is home sick. Sudha's still out, though she says she'll be in on Monday.” Lyssa exhaled in frustration. “Listen, uh, I think the experiment might be a wash. I'm sorry. I know how hard you worked on setting it up the other night.”

She hoped this would prompt him to call.

“I also spoke with Heather this afternoon. There's a possibility we were sent some tubes we shouldn't have been. It's a big mess. Anyway, it's important you call me back.”

A gust of wind slammed the side of the car and sent them perilously close to the guardrail. Ramon jerked the wheel to correct the slide. The car skidded a little, but steadied as he positioned them in the center of the lane again. They slowed some more, keeping pace with the cars in front.

“If it turns out we need to stop — that is, if you're feeling up to it — I'll need help removing the test animals and cleaning the cages before next week.”

Decontaminating with bleach while wearing biohazard suits, more like
, she thought fatally.

“We're shorthanded in the animal building.”

“It can wait till Monday,” Ramon said, speaking through clenched teeth. “We've got plans this weekend, remember?”

“I'll call you back when we get home,” Lyssa finished, then thumbed the disconnect. “It's raining like crazy, Rame,” she said. “We can't go camping in this.”

“It'll stop. Trust me.”

“But you're the one who said we needed to be ready for the Ames project. Hit the ground running. That's what you said.”

“It won't take long to clean the cages, honey.” He lifted a few fingers from the wheel and gestured out the window. “And this'll clear up. Typical late spring storm. Mark my words, it'll be sunny by morning.”

Lyssa looked doubtfully out her window. The sky was a foreboding grayish brown, and the clouds loomed low over them. Another gust hit them, this time from the other side, and the driven rain obscured her view for a moment. She didn't mind it so much as the wind, which stripped the trees of their leaves and sent them in a blinding flurry over them. They stuck to the windows like tape and resisted the wipers' feeble attempts to remove them. They also made the roads slick.

The cars ahead had pulled away again and were now little more than indistinct shapes with angry red eyes. The lights blinked and flared. All at once, they seemed to rush toward Ramon's Audi.

He slammed on the brakes. The car started to slide sideways. They fishtailed for a moment, then came to a stop.

“Jesus,” he muttered.

“I told you to slow down.”

“No, it's not that.” He pointed out into the gloom at the man-shaped figures moving along the side of the road. Lyssa could barely make out the reflective tape on their suits. “It's one of those damn work crews.”

“In this?” she said. “That's insane.”

“It's cruel and unusual punishment, if you ask me.”

Lyssa looked over at him. In the past, he'd rarely spoken out against the conscription of Death Row inmates into the Marine Corps' Omegaman Force. But with their expansion into civilian work details, he'd become more vocal. Neither of them liked the idea of forced service, not even for prisoners, but they'd had to concede that the benefits did seem to outweigh those concerns.

This, however, seemed unusually harsh treatment.

It was dangerous enough working with heavy equipment under ideal conditions. But in the wind and driving rain? It did seem to cross the line. They had to be freezing out there.

The traffic had slowed to a crawl as it approached the site. The tower hove into view in the background, the illumination flickering from the wind and leaf debris blowing across the floodlights. The object itself was a wide, tapering cylinder of metal standing thirty or so feet into the air, installed perhaps the week before. But it appeared that at least one of the boxes located at its top had broken loose.

While she watched, one of the men in the green uniforms and the masks reached out toward the dangling box. He was standing on a small, metal scaffolding attached to a crane, its arm extended at an angle. The base of the truck was anchored by four splayed pods, each one sunk into the soggy earth. Lightning flashed behind the man, momentarily giving his exposed skin a sickly greenish tint.

That can't be safe
, Lyssa thought. The platform had to be slippery. And she hadn't seen the man wearing a safety harness.

“Heard something interesting the other day,” Ramon said, drawing her attention away.

She turned to look at him. He tilted his chin toward the windshield in the direction of the crew.

“They were saying on the radio that the implants can override awareness. It's essentially like sealing away your consciousness. They can even make you think you're somewhere else, doing something else. Imagine toiling away in the driving rain while you think you're on a beach drinking margaritas.”

She rolled her eyes. This was a new one to her. All the secrecy shrouding the government's Omega program had spurred speculation. Some of the rumors coming out over the years had been simply unbelievable.

“Is that what you think?” she asked him. “That it somehow usurps control of awareness?”

“I think it's a convenient way to rationalize subjecting people to conditions such as these.” He shrugged. “Whatever lets us sleep better at night, I guess.”

“And are you sleeping better at night?”

He sighed. “Why does everything always feel like a double entendre with you lately?” he asked.

She turned her gaze back at the crew, which was now less than twenty yards ahead. She actually found herself hoping the rumor was true. At least if the conscriptees weren't aware, then this couldn't really be considered cruel and unusual punishment, could it? “It's not the most ridiculous claim I've ever heard,” she said.

On the other hand, it wasn't fair. Why should they get to believe they were basking on some sun-drenched beach somewhere when she was stuck in traffic in a stuffy car in the middle of a downpour?

Ramon grunted. “Yeah, I've heard some doozies. Like the one that says they're dead.”

They're faces and skin look dead
.

“That guy you're always listening to in the car,” Ramon continued. “He's the worst of the bunch. All he does is spew conspiracy theories about the government. He's a whack job. Irresponsible. I never understood why you like listening to him.”

“He's entertaining.”

“He's reckless. They should shut him down.”

“Just a moment ago you were arguing the government was trampling on the Constitution. ‘Cruel and unusual' and all that.” She craned her neck up as they inched past the site. The man at the top of the platform was leaning on the junction box with one hand. He appeared to be trying to work the lid open. Lyssa didn't favor the way he was leaning out over the railing.

“I never used those words.”

“Same thing. It's what you meant—
Oh my god!
” She gasped and raised her hands to her face as a gust of wind battered the car and sent the platform swaying. “Oh god, he's going to fall! Stop! Stop!” She slammed her hands against the window.

Ramon stepped on the brakes, sending the car into a lazy skid across the wet pavement. Lyssa opened her door and tried to step out.

“Get back in here!” Ramon yelled, reaching over to her.

But she was immobilized, both by shock and her seatbelt, as she watched his feet slip off the platform. The crane swung away from the tower, leaving him dangling by one hand. Then, in a slow, pendulous arc, it swung back, slamming into the man's legs, crushing them. Lyssa screamed as his grip on the box was lost and he plummeted toward the ground, cartwheeling through the air like a rag doll. He landed in a loose crumple not twenty feet away and lay still.

“
Oh my god ohmygodohmy—

The words piled up in her throat, damming her breath as she saw the man get to his feet. One arm was twisted at an odd angle, though it didn't seem to bother him at all. He stumbled out of view around the side of a truck. But as odd as that was, odder yet was the fact that none of the other men seemed to have noticed the accident. They carried on as if nothing had happened.

“Shut the door, Lyssa! You're letting rain into the car!”

She turned in her seat and pulled the door shut. “He fell,” she whispered. “I saw it.”

“What?”

“I saw him fall. He broke his arm. And then he just got right back up again and walked away.”

Ramon gave her a doubtful glance. The cars ahead were pulling away, accelerating beyond the construction site and pulling them along like magnets.

“Are you sure? It's raining pretty hard, and maybe you thought you saw—”

“It was right there in front of me. He got up! And it was like it never happened.”

“The ground's soft. He's probably fine.” Ramon shrugged and merged left into the fast lane. “Probably thinks he's with a couple prostitutes and doesn't even realize he almost broke his neck.”