The Fading (33 page)

Noel shouted, ‘You proved your point! Talk to me!’

And soon after, the breadcrumb disruptions tapered off. Noel reached the entrance to the Forum Shops and the trail had gone
cold. But he was sure the stranger wouldn’t leave him. This was a game to him. He wanted
something, must be enjoying this. Even if he knew more about the trait that bound them and had known others who were hostage
to it, he must have been at least a little intrigued by a new player in his midst. The professor wouldn’t give up now, but,
if he really didn’t want to be seen or talked to, chasing him was a waste of time. Either way, Noel wasn’t going to let the
man jerk him around all day.

With that, he turned and headed back through the casino, toward the front desk, into a deli where he purchased an iced tea.
He sat on a stool in front of a video gaming pod shaped like a spacecraft and sipped his drink, trying to appear bored. Twenty-five
minutes later there was no sign of the professor or his mischief.

Okay, you win. I’m leaving. I can’t leave the money out in the desert, not with you running around, watching my every move
the way you probably have been for days, weeks … I want answers, but not if they cost six million.

Noel tossed his tea and went through the main lobby, through the revolving doors, past the cab line and down the wide sidewalk
toward the main drag. He’d almost reached Las Vegas Boulevard when a sedan yellow cab sidled up to the curb and kept pace
with him.

‘You can’t even find the light switch, can you?’ the same low voice said, this time without the playfulness. Noel turned to
see the frumpy solid-state professor staring at him from the back seat. ‘I was trying to find out what you’ve learned to do
with yours. The answer, obviously, is nothing.’

Noel cast a nervous glance at the driver, a man of indeterminate age with skanky rat’s tail of hair looped down to his shoulder,
bobbing his head despite there being no radio on or music playing in the vicinity.

‘Don’t worry,’ the professor said. ‘These guys see more imaginary people and hear more voices than you and I put together,
but I’ll restrain myself.’

Noel smirked.

‘Hop in. I’ll take you to my place and show you my collection.’ The door opened and the professor scooted back to make room.

Noel shook his head. ‘Aren’t you supposed to offer me some candy first?’

‘God, you’re wound tight. That was a joke.’ The professor rolled his eyes. ‘I’m hungry. Let’s get some lunch and swap war
stories.’

‘Did you do something to me? Back in there, when I snapped back?’

The professor smiled. ‘Well, that’s something we can talk about. But not here.’

There is always a choice in life. Give him your phone number, accept the job offer, get in the vehicle with the complete stranger.
But there wasn’t a choice this time. Not for Noel. He had to know what this man knew, consequences be damned.

Noel got in the cab and shut the door.

‘To Pink’s,’ the professor told the driver, and the car jerked away from the curb. He turned to Noel and offered a small,
dry hand. ‘Theodore Dalton. Good to finally meet you, Noel.’

‘Where’d you get my name?’

‘Please. I’m surprised you’re still here. If I were you, I’d have socked away my winnings and skipped town a long, long time
ago.’

Noel had lost the capacity for speech. The bastard knew it all.

The professor slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Loosen up, my friend. I’m not going to turn you in. I want to help. We have so
much in common we might as well be brothers.’

This sentiment turned out to be true in many ways. In others, not at all.

Theodore Dalton was one of those men who, after a particularly satisfying bite of his meal, made little wiggling motions of
childlike pleasure with his fingers. He chewed with his mouth open. Bits of whatever he was shoving into his face tumbled
down the bib of his shirt. He emptied entire napkin canisters, littering the table with a new one after each wipe, and smacked
his lips at every sip of soda. All of this was bad enough on its own but was made worse by the fact that his lunch of choice
was two chili dogs with cheese and onions and a large Diet Pepsi, the straw of which he offered to Noel as if they were on
a date.

Noel looked at the straw. ‘Thank you, no.’ ‘You hardly touched your food. Such a waste. These are the best hot dogs in the
world.’ Now that their game of cloak and dagger had concluded, Dalton was not lively company. Though he had the vocabulary
of an adult, something in him seemed to have been stunted at age thirteen.

‘I don’t have much of an appetite.’ Noel looked around the restaurant Dalton had chosen for their
meeting, Pink’s Hot Dogs, near the entrance to the Miracle Mile Shops attached to the Paris resort. It was a busy spot – with
foot traffic on the open mall side and a crowd of Pink’s true believers inside – but the public meeting place did not put
Noel at ease. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching them. He didn’t believe Dalton when he said he was ‘a
former elementary school teacher and pastor, lifelong bachelor, presently unaffiliated with any company, group, or branded
sect of society. I have hobbies and interests and I am not out to partner up with my fellow man, I am merely a lone wolf.’
Noel had no reason to trust Dalton. He could be anything. A government asset. A member of a cult. The aging pervert who finds
himself lacking the vigor to play out his designs and seeks a surrogate.

‘Oh, but you do have quite the appetite,’ Dalton countered. ‘You’ve been gorging for weeks. What
do
you intend to do with all that money?’

‘Retire. How did you find me?’

‘You cleaned my room.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I spotted you a couple years ago. I come to Las Vegas for a few months every winter. I’m from Wisconsin originally, but with
every passing year the cold becomes more intolerable. You used to work at Caesars. You were changing the linens as I was checking
out. I stuck around for another day or two hoping to see you turn more than a hotel room, but you didn’t. I figured you’d
give yourself a promotion sooner or
later. Vegas has a little something for everyone like us, ha!’

‘But how did you know?’ Noel leaned forward, lowering his voice. ‘Two years ago I wasn’t in the bubble.’

Dalton licked his thumb. ‘The bubble? I never thought of it that way. More of a net. Better yet, an eraser at the end of a
very long pencil. Sometimes a great big ol’ handful of them.’

Noel was not interested in metaphors. ‘You didn’t answer the question.’

Dalton met his gaze. ‘I can feel it. You learn to see it in their eyes.’

‘There are more like us?’

‘Of course. Just like there are more with seven toes, psychic hotlines in their foreheads, blue skin disorder like that family
in Kentucky.’

‘How many do you know about?’

‘Not many, but more than you might think. There are probably forty or fifty currently practicing in the States, maybe a hundred
times that who haven’t tapped it yet and probably never will. Are you telling me I’m the first you’ve met?’

Noel’s silence was answer enough.

Dalton sighed. ‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-four.’

‘But it feels like fifty. Living with this, it ages you, kid. Some days I feel like a cat stuck on my eighth life. You need
a hobby, something to keep you vital.’

Noel scoffed. ‘Because I have so much time on my hands.’

‘What
have
you been doing all this time? You really haven’t figured it out?’

Noel threw up his hands. ‘Who am I supposed to ask? A doctor? Mine didn’t come with the owner’s manual.’

‘When did you break your cherry?’

Noel was starting to feel interrogated, when he wanted to be the one asking the questions. ‘My mom used to talk about it.
Things that happened when I was a toddler, when I was nursing. I really don’t know.’

Dalton regarded Noel with his bizarrely childlike curiosity once again. His pupils were different sizes – one normal, the
other consuming all but the thinnest margin of its bordering green iris – and Noel thought the man was either ill with something
or had a glass eye, though he wouldn’t have been able to say which was real. The gaze was unsettling and Noel looked away.

‘It’s a lonely life,’ Dalton said. ‘Do you have anyone? Family? Friends? Someone you can trust?’

The truth was no, but that would sound pathetic. ‘When I need them.’

Dalton took this with skepticism, pursing his lips around the straw until the soft drink gurgled on empty. ‘I used to be just
like you. Wandering around the country, looking for something to do, somewhere to call home. But eventually I learned how
to fill the void.’

‘I’m not looking for anything except answers,’ Noel said.

Dalton seemed not to have heard him. He was in a
minor reverie. ‘That’s what the weaker ones are for, of course. To pass the time, keep us company.’

‘Weaker ones.’

Dalton smiled. ‘I envy you, I really do. So much of the discovery ahead of you. All the things you have left to do, to learn.
There is nothing like the flowering.’

Noel shifted in his chair.

‘Waking up to the possibilities,’ Dalton added. ‘For you, right now it’s money, but I think you will find that a passing charm.
There is so much more to life than money. The things we acquire, they become us. Which is why it’s so important to choose
carefully.’

All of this airy discussion was frustrating Noel, and making him a little queasy.

‘Look, Mr Dalton—’

‘Theo, please.’

‘Theo. I need to know what it is. If I don’t get a handle on that, I’ll never—’

‘No,’ Dalton said. ‘You don’t
need
to know what it is. That part is easy and you’re probably on the cusp of it. You
want
that very badly, I can see. But what you
need
to know is who you are, what to do with yourself. Isn’t that the eternal question for all of us? For them?’ He gestured at
the other patrons, the people entering and exiting the mall. ‘What is my purpose in life? What is my place in the world? The
fading means nothing without that. In this regard we are no different than them.’

‘Okay, I get that,’ Noel said. ‘But can’t you just tell me—’

‘It’s a gift,’ Dalton cut him off, turning pious. ‘The greatest gift in the world. One that must be put to exceptional use
or not used at all.’

Now they were getting somewhere. ‘Turning it on and off, can you show me how to do that?’

‘I can.’ Dalton squinted. ‘But the question – and it’s a serious one, I’m not being coy for the sake of entertainment – is
why should I?’

Noel stared at the former teacher, this rumpled boy-man in his thready tweed jacket. ‘I can pay you. I have a lot—’

‘Money I have no use for.’

‘What do you want, then? Why wouldn’t you tell me? If you’ve lived with this for half as long as I have, then you have to
know how badly … I mean, come on.’

‘But can I trust you? Because the things you can do with it, we’re talking about power now.’ Dalton’s eyes blazed with an
appetite that had not been sated by the two chili dogs. ‘This is not a power of the sort you see thrown around by politicians,
bankers, randy athletes with eleven children and their own brand of sneaker. This is a power only the gods once knew. And
I don’t know if you’re ready for that. I think – yes, I think it would be better if you proved to me first that you are up
to the task. The mission. Or maybe it’s a calling, I don’t know. But it is a matter of a higher purpose and dedication counts.
It counts for so very much.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

Dalton grinned in the manner of a prisoner who’s finally found the leverage he needs to dominate his
whimpering new cell mate. ‘This is sensitive stuff. There are things, things I haven’t shared with anyone. I see signs of
worthiness in you, but this isn’t a clubhouse, you understand? There are no rules and some people can’t handle that. Some
people need boundaries, discipline, religion. They come unhinged without it. Others need to be set free.’

‘I understand,’ Noel said, struggling to maintain his patience. ‘What am I going to do? Call the FBI? I’m like you. I don’t
want attention. I just want some answers.’

‘So you keep saying. But the mentor–disciple relationship is a very delicate thing. The knowledge I pass on to you, it’s part
of me. You ask me to help you manage your condition, you’re asking me to share something that is sacred. How do I know you
won’t hop on an airplane and do some real damage? Topple some head of state, igniting another sand war? For that matter, how
do I know you won’t use it against me?’

‘I won’t. Why would I? You know enough about me, if you’ve been following me. You could call the police and I’d be just as
screwed.’

‘Pffft.’ Dalton waved a hand. ‘You act like this stealing business is something of consequence. What if you find yourself
up against the wall and you are forced to make a sacrifice? Do you have the mettle to do whatever it takes to protect yourself,
to protect the secret at all costs?’

Noel tried to make sense of such questions. ‘All I know is, I want to live a normal life. I’m prepared to—’

‘Wrong. See, that’s your first mistake. There is no normal life, not in this. You should have learned that much by now. This
thing of ours, it runs on your emotions. If you run around hot and agitated and crying every time someone gets hurt or gets
in your way, it will rule you. Cold. Absolute zero. That is what you want to achieve. That is the only way to make it work
for you. It must be governed with the remorselessness of a hangman.’

Runs on your emotions
. ‘Are you telling me this comes from us? From something inside us?’

Dalton giggled. ‘Where else could it come from? Outer space? Do you own a special suit? I don’t. How do you think I was able
to see you when no one else could? It’s the mind, my young friend. Mine happens to be stronger than yours.’

Noel’s thoughts were spinning off in ten directions. ‘Wait, wait …’

Dalton continued, ‘All this time you’ve been in Las Vegas waiting for it to come back. Did it never occur to you maybe it
was here all along? Well, don’t beat yourself up. Maybe you just weren’t strong enough. All these people coming and going,
everywhere you turn, it’s no wonder. But you’re still growing, I can see that. You’ve survived this long and that’s no small
feat. Someday you’ll be able to walk on the field during Game Seven of the World Series and wipe out the entire fan base just
before the winning pitch. Imagine what kind of curtain that’s going to take. Fifty thousand people, blinded. Now that would
be something, though of course the
viewers at home wouldn’t be affected – my point is, you’re not ready. And until I know I can trust you won’t lose control
of your bladder when the, ah, let us say the authorities come down on you, why should I give you the keys to the big machine?’