Psion Alpha (36 page)

More
than one of Sammy’s team members turned back to see what Dr. Rosmir was
shouting about. Sammy’s ears burned with guilt. “I thought I would be fine
because of my—”

“Well
you aren’t fine! You’re zoning out longer than normal. What a stupid choice
that was, Sammy. And completely irresponsible.”

They
walked side by side in silence, Sammy was determined to accept any criticism
Dr. Rosmir had to level at him. When enough time had passed that he knew the
doctor wasn’t going to say more, Sammy spoke again. “Why, Doctor? Why am I
blanking longer than normal?”

Rosmir
shook his head. “Probably something to do with your Anomaly Eleven. You analyze
more detail. You’re able to insert your consciousness into the event with more
immersion than most. I’ve long suspected that Commander Byron has a
photographic memory. Between the two of you, even one memory is a lot to
digest. That’s one guess, at least.”

“Sometimes
I forget you’re sixteen, Sammy. Maybe I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“No,
it’s okay. I deserved to hear it.”

“I
remember when I was sixteen. I wish I’d been more like you.”

The
rain slowed to a steady drizzle. Sammy couldn’t bear to hear the water anymore,
so he pulled Sherwood’s radio out of his pack and started to turn the crank.
Static came from the speakers, but Sammy discovered the noise soothed him in an
indescribable way. He wondered why he noticed that now. In Sherwood’s hands, it
had annoyed him.

When
he and Rosmir fell about five meters behind the group, the doctor cleared his
throat in a meaningful way. Sammy turned down the radio so the static was
nothing more than a vague hiss. For a brief time, they walked like this until
Sammy was tempted to turn the radio back up, but then Dr. Rosmir spoke:

“I’m
a coward, Sammy.”

“What?
No. Why do you say that?”

“Because
I have been all my life. In the Indian Territory, where I grew up, driving
licenses are given out at age fourteen. I waited until seventeen. My father
still had to bribe me to give it a try. When I sat behind the steering wheel,
all I saw were things that could go wrong. It paralyzed me. He took me out in
the car, promising me a chance to sit in on his next surgery if I drove. I
agreed. Medicine, even at that age, fascinated me. We drove around a parking
lot, then a deserted street, and soon he had me out on the road with traffic.
It terrified me, but I was determined to watch the surgery.

“I
hadn’t even been driving for two hours when a truck hit us. My father died
instantly—that’s what they told me. Maybe they said that to comfort me, I don’t
know. I’ve never driven a car or cruiser since then. Even at Alpha headquarters,
I always requested a chauffeur. Driving … it’s something I simply cannot do.
Because I am a coward.”

“That
does not make you a coward.”

Dr.
Rosmir ignored Sammy’s statement. In the torchlight, Sammy could see the
doctor’s eyes staring ahead, fixed on something in the blackness.

“After
I finished medical school, I dated a girl in my general surgery residency. Not
a Psion. She never knew I was, either. Her passion was film, so we often caught
a movie when we had free time. Her name was Hoang Bui. Beautiful, smart—not
really funny—I guess, but she had a dry, snarky sort of wit. We talked about
marrying after our residency. I planned to let her in on my great secret the
day before our wedding. Psion Command has—or had—a detailed process for people
in such situations.

“One
day—or night, I guess—we left the theater for our favorite coffee shop, and
three men mugged us. Keep in mind, Sammy, that while I’d gone through two years
of Psion training at Beta headquarters with Commander Byron, I hadn’t been involved
in any type of combat-based exercises for over five years. These three men came
out of nowhere and had knives on us. I thought we could make a run for it. It
didn’t even occur to me to use blasts—didn’t even cross my mind. So I pulled
Hoang’s arm, and we ran. They chased us. I couldn’t see well in the dark. I
tripped, but I was holding her hand. It pulled her with me. I got up as fast as
I could and ran. She wasn’t as quick, and they got her.”

Emotion
filled Rosmir’s voice, and it seemed to take great effort for him not to cry.
“They got her, but I ran. I was—I was terrified. So I kept going. I could have
saved her, but I didn’t. My brain—it never occurred—blasting—not once. They
beat and raped her. I visited her in the hospital while she was asleep. I apologized
so many times because I couldn’t think of anything else to say. The next day I
transferred from the program and never saw her again. I knew that day I was no
good for any woman because I am a coward.”

“People
change, Doctor.”

“They
don’t. Yesterday, when I heard Levu and Sherwood screaming, Lorenzo and Nikotai
ran to help. Not me. I pretended to, but I took my time. I jogged, if that. I
thought—I hoped that by going on this mission, by being around you and so many
brave people … but I’m still the same. I’m just not a warrior.”

Which
is worse?
Sammy wondered.
To be afraid to fight or to have a
psychotic, bloodthirsty side of you that’s almost impossible to control?

Not
long after he and Dr. Rosmir fell silent, Sammy ordered his team to stop for
the night. He assigned himself the first shift since he couldn’t bear asking
anyone else to do it. Jeffie offered to stay up with him, but Sammy wanted her
to rest. As his teammates drifted off to sleep, he sat on his cot, cranked the
radio, and listened to nothing but static. This didn’t worry him. He wasn’t
hoping for any news broadcasts, he just found the noise oddly peaceful.

Then
Lorenzo Winters appeared next to Sammy, startling him. “Sorry, kid,” Lorenzo
said as he yawned, “shoulda realized you’d be jumpy.”

“It’s
fine. You ready to take over?”

“Yep.
Keep me company for a minute, why don’t you?”

Staying
awake was the last thing Sammy wanted to do, but Lorenzo had never asked him
for anything. A few moments of his time seemed more than reasonable. When Sammy
didn’t object, Lorenzo pulled his cot over to Sammy’s.

“Thanks,
kid. I’m feelin’ a little lonely. Miss my wife and kids. You don’t have family,
do you?”

Sammy
shook his head.

“Yeah,
maybe Thomas told me about that. Can’t remember. But no worries. You’ll start a
family of your own someday.”

“Have
to survive this place first.”

Lorenzo
laughed, though Sammy couldn’t imagine what could possibly be funny. “You will.
Don’t worry. Maybe the rest of us won’t, but you will.”

“And
you? You think you’ll survive?”

“Maybe.
Can’t say for sure. Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if I didn’t.”

Deep
in thought, Sammy distractedly rubbed gunky, caked mud and blood off his arms
and neck.

“You
know what I mean, don’t you?”

Sammy
gestured that he did. He remembered the torture, the agony of loved ones dying.
“Do you think someone can get used to seeing friends die? Become callous to
it?”

“I
don’t know, kid. People dying doesn’t affect me much. Never has.”

“I
didn’t even blink an eye when Sherwood died. I practically watched him get
eaten, and it didn’t faze me. In less than twenty-four hours, I lost three
members of my team. Levu was my friend. Wesley sacrificed himself for me. I
haven’t shed a tear. I want to, though. I want to mourn them. If I don’t—”

“It
means you’re dead inside.”

“Yes.”
Sammy stared into the black of the jungle and wondered if what he saw mirrored
his own soul. Jeffie had tried to convince him that he was only a Thirteen if
he chose to be. Commander Byron believed something similar. But they didn’t know.
They didn’t understand how hollow he felt inside despite such terrible losses.
Nor had they taken enjoyment at ripping apart and gutting the thylacines as
Sammy had.

“‘I
have cried day and night before thee,’” Lorenzo said in a deep, soft tone. “‘Let
my prayer come before thee. Incline thine ear unto my cry for my soul is full
of troubles, and my life draweth nigh unto the grave. I am counted with them
that go down into the pit. I am as a man that hath no strength, free among the
dead, like the slain that lie in the grave, whom thou rememberest no more; and
they are cut off from thy hand. Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit, in
darkness, in the deeps.’”

“The
eighty-eighth psalm,” Sammy said. Something about the description of the pits
struck him. Akureyri came to mind, his tumble down the slopes in the mudslide,
his desperation, his plea for life. “You believe in that?”

“I
do.”

Sammy
recalled what he had said in his prayer when he’d been caught in the mudslide,
promising that he would die in combat if spared from drowning in the mud. He
wondered if a god existed out there, if he actually cared, and if he intended
to hold Sammy to his promise.

“I
take it you don’t.” Lorenzo’s tone was impossible to read.

“Undecided.”

“That’s
the hardest part. Deciding.”

Sammy
searched Lorenzo’s face for signs that he was joking or teasing. He saw nothing
to indicate anything but seriousness.

“Deciding.”
Sammy hadn’t meant to say it with such derision, but it came out that way. “You
make it sound like it’s up to me.”

Lorenzo
chuckled in a strange, intelligent way that made his beard quiver. “It’s true
what they say about knowledge and wisdom. Not often bedfellows.”

“Are
you saying I’m not wise?”

“Yes.”

Sammy
laughed, too, but his laughter was born out of shock, not mirth. “You’re
telling me that I can
decide
God exists. And—and what? It will become
so? That’s ludicrous.”

“You’ll
never
know
one way or another. Deciding is all you got.”

Lorenzo
stared at Sammy, who responded with only a shake of his head. The fire in the
center of camp crackled and popped. The soft hissing of the radio floated along
in the background. Sammy’s nose dripped water, making him sniff. The musky, wet
scent of the jungle filled his nostrils.

“How
many people have died to preserve your life, kid?”

The
answer required no thought. “Five.”

“Why
do people do that? Why did
they
do it?”

“I
don’t know.”

“Horse
crud. You do, too.” Lorenzo poked him in the chest. “Why, Sammy? Why would they
die for you?”

Sammy
rubbed the spot where Lorenzo touched, annoyed at the invasion of his personal
space. “Because they cared about me. They were friends.”

“You
were friends with Wesley?”

“At
the end I was.”

“And
you think that’s why he gave up his life? So you could run from those invisible
monsters? Because of your last conversation?”

“No.
He told me he had promised Thomas he’d make sure I survived.”

“Exactly.
He and I believe in you. It’s a decision we’ve made. Decisions carry weight,
kid. They have power.”

Sammy
shook his head at the ludicrousness of Lorenzo’s statement. “So I decide God
exists, and that power creates him?”

“No,
you decide He exists, and the power of your decision lets you
see
him.”

“Don’t
tell me that some god let these Thirteens exist. Or that the same god would let
me be one of them. Because if he did, then God isn’t good like people claim.”

“What
does it mean to be good?”

At
first Sammy thought he’d misheard Lorenzo. “It means—it means he should care.
And how can he care when I see so many people whose lives suck? Or who die
horrible deaths?”

“Everyone’s
life sucks, Sammy. It’s how we react to that knowledge that matters.”

Sammy
rubbed his temples. The conversation was going nowhere. Lorenzo smiled at his
frustration and patted him on the back.

“Go
to bed and think about it, kid.”

“Yeah,
I think I’ll do that.” Sammy pulled his cot away from Lorenzo, lay down, and
closed his eyes. His last thought before drifting asleep was that old man
Winters didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.

Dawn
arrived too soon. Sammy sensed the mood of the group: exhausted, terrified,
anxious, and angry. Most of all, he recognized the presence of despair, even in
himself. After they packed, he walked alongside Jeffie. It wasn’t raining at
the moment, but the dry weather wouldn’t last long. As they trudged through the
ankle-deep mud, he continued to toy with Sherwood’s radio. More than once, he
asked Jeffie if the sound bothered her. Each time she said it didn’t. The last
time he asked her, she leaned over and pecked his lips. Just as they broke
apart, the static from his radio ended, and a familiar voice cut through. Sammy
stopped dead in his tracks to prevent himself from losing the signal.

“—significant
casualties lost in the Battle of Seoul on both sides. President Marnyo has
declared today a day of—” Sammy tapped the radio with one hand and spun the
crank a little faster until the signal returned. “—forces late last night
retreated in what has been considered to be a huge blow to—”