Astounding! (22 page)

“Don’t,” Freddy said. “Buy this one. A souvenir. I think you’ll be glad later.”

After a moment’s thought, Carter nodded. Really, he was more proud of this particular issue than any of the dozens he’d edited. Freddy’s story was terrific and so were most of the others. And John’s… well, publishing that one wasn’t a decision he’d ever regret.

T
HE
FOLLOWING
day, Keith had not yet tired of sightseeing. Freddy tried to beg off, claiming he was falling behind in his writing, but Keith threatened to pout and Freddy gave in. They took the ferry to Sausalito, where they wandered among the shops and ate a seafood lunch with a view of San Francisco. After their meal Keith and Freddy stood together at the end of a little pier, their arms around each other’s waists, looking across the bay.

Carter watched a seagull as it considered whether to steal a slice of pizza from a pedestrian’s hand. Carter was sort of rooting for the gull.

“Hey, Carter?” Keith called. “Will you take our picture?”

Carter hadn’t bothered trying to troubleshoot his own dead phone. Nobody he wanted to talk to would call him anyway. He trotted over the weathered wooden boards, took Keith’s phone, and backed a decent distance away. “You want the skyline in the background?”

“Yes, please.”

Carter held up the camera and centered the image—which promptly went blank. He pressed a couple of buttons, but nothing happened except a slightly ominous popping sound. He jogged back to Keith and returned the phone. “I think it’s locked or something.”

Frowning, Keith poked at it. “Dammit. I had, like, an 80 percent charge left.” Neither he nor Freddy could get it to work again.

Carter felt… odd. Either slightly ill or slightly giddy. He couldn’t tell which. Maybe both.

After they took the ferry back to the city, Keith marched angrily over to the Apple store while Freddy headed for his laptop. Carter went for a long run, weaving in and out of the throngs of pedestrians. His head didn’t clear, and he still felt edgy and restless when he returned for a shower and dinner.

Freddy drove the three of them across the city to Ocean Beach. Keith was slightly grumpy about his phone, which had been pronounced DOA by the people at the Genius Bar. But he’d already purchased a newer and fancier phone, and his new toy mollified him.

They ate across the street from the beach, in a restaurant that gave them sweeping views of boat lights bobbing far offshore.

“Let’s dress up and find a club,” Keith said as they drove back to the hotel. “I want to go somewhere in the Castro.”

Freddy groaned and accelerated for a late green light. “I don’t want to dress up. And I look like an idiot when I dance.”

“You can wear that nice brown shirt that brings out the color of your eyes. And when you dance, you look like
my
idiot, which ought to be good enough for you any day.”

“Fine,” Freddy sighed.

Keith twisted around to look at Carter in the backseat. “Do you have something to wear? I bet some of the stores near Union Square are still open if you need to do a little shopping.”

“Thanks, but I’m kind of tired tonight.” He faked a yawn. “You guys go. Have a good time. Call me if you need somebody to bail you out of jail.”

It was late when Keith and Freddy left, but Carter wasn’t quite ready to face the looming truth. He changed back to exercise clothes and went in search of the hotel fitness center.

He’d never had the money to join a gym, and until recently he hadn’t had any interest in the concept. Consequently, he was a bit stymied over how to work the treadmill. He was about to give up and run outside instead when a blond guy with a German accent took pity on him. “It’s like this, you see?” the guy said, poking at the controls. “You can adjust your speed like this.”

“Thanks,” Carter said. The man was cute. God, had he now developed a thing for blonds?

Carter got on the machine and cranked the speed up high. Which must have impressed the other guy, who whistled and exclaimed in German. “You are very good!” he added in English.

“I like to run.” Which he proceeded to do, long and hard. After about half an hour, the electronic display on the treadmill flickered, danced around, and went dead. Without breaking his rhythm, Carter tried to fix it, but he wasn’t especially surprised when nothing happened. At least the motor continued to move the belt under his feet.

The German man—who might or might not have noticed the blank display—gave him an odd look before leaving the room, towel looped around his neck. But Carter kept going until stinging sweat made his eyes hurt.

In his comfortable room with the chic décor, Carter drew the curtains, blocking the cityscape view. He took a long, hot shower. Nude, he got into the big bed. Then he closed his eyes and accepted the truth that had been worrying at him for several days now.

Alone in his hotel room, Carter flew.

It wasn’t like the joyous swoops he’d experienced with John. This was more a cautious letting go—because what if he couldn’t find his way back?—and then a gradual, wobbly rise, like a balloon not quite filled with helium. But rise he did, and when he hit the ceiling, he phased right through it as effortlessly as a swimmer cutting through water. He kept on going up, into the cold night sky. It was a clear evening, although from his greater height, he saw a bank of fog slowly rolling in through the Golden Gate.

Southwest of his hotel, the city hall glowed warmly, its large dome a soft green. Beyond that, the red lights of Sutro Tower blinked from atop a hill. To the east, the Bay Bridge was a curved string of Christmas lights; everywhere, buildings and cars shone and sparked. He could eat the light—it was as insubstantial as cotton candy, and no less delightful.

Energized and feeling a little more confident, Carter dove to the north, then spun dizzily back up, high, very high, before allowing himself to flutter down again. He wondered whether he could find Freddy and Keith if he tried hard enough. But he didn’t try because it was too diverting to dance from peak to peak across the city, to take in all of the Bay Area at once before narrowing in on one colorful store sign or one gaily blinking pair of brake lights.

As he headed out to sea, with the boats far below and the moon lending the water an ethereal shimmer, he realized he could go on like this forever. He could abandon his body—would it die without him or remain comatose?—and roam the atmosphere forever. He couldn’t leave in search of John because there was far too much emptiness to explore and because, according to John, solitary space travel was dangerous. But he could remain close to Earth, watching life go on but no longer tethered by bills and aging and the everyday demands of life.

But he’d be alone, and he couldn’t face that.

As the morning’s first light appeared over the Oakland hills, Carter floated slowly back to the city, back to his hotel, back to his body. He settled inside it, and it felt as comfortable as a pair of worn old jeans. He
liked
his body, he thought sleepily as he fluffed the pillow beneath his head. He supposed he’d keep it for a while.

K
EITH
GRINNED
from across the table. Freddy was not smiling. He clutched his coffee cup and looked hungover. A little glitter sparkled in his hair and beard, so Carter couldn’t quite keep a straight face.

“We had a great time!” Keith said. “The place was packed with hot guys and we danced and then we went to another club where there were beautiful drag queens. One of them told me I’d look good in drag.” He fluttered his eyelashes.

“Is that something you want to do?” Carter asked.

“Nope. But it’s nice to know it’s an option.”

“Options are good.” Carter felt oddly relaxed this morning. Maybe it was better to just accept weird things about yourself instead of being in denial. He knew he eventually would have to deal with some of the repercussions of what John had done to him—a career in computers was probably out of the question, for example—but that could wait. For now he could avoid fancy electronics and remember how good it felt to be free from his body, even for a little while.

“Are you okay?” Keith asked him. “You looked a little out of it just now.”

“I’m good. Thanks. Just thinking.”

“About…?”

Carter shrugged. “Dunno. Who I am, I guess.”

“Ah,” Keith said with a nod. “Soul-searching. Not a bad activity, as long as you don’t get too lost in it. In fact, there’s a lot of that going around lately.” He cut his glance toward Freddy, who hunched uncomfortably.

Deciding it would be cruel to ask Freddy to spill his guts right now—when, in fact, Freddy looked in real danger of literally spilling his guts—Carter smiled. “Maybe it’s contagious.” He nibbled at his croissant, although he wasn’t hungry. He’d eaten his fill overnight, when he’d sipped at photons.

The espresso machine whooped and slurped while conversations rattled and bounced around the crowded room. Carter inhaled the fragrant minty steam from his tea.

“So I was thinking,” Keith said. “Alcatraz today? I think we have to book tickets ahead of time, but I can give it a shot.”

“Actually, I was thinking of heading home,” Carter said.

That caught Freddy’s attention. “Today?”

“Yeah. I need… I don’t know. Maybe I need to stick in one place for a while and get my head together.”

Freddy ran his fingers through his beard. “Don’t murder me when I ask this, Car. Do you have rent money? Not that the dump you live in is worth what you pay for it, but—”

“I’m not going back to Seattle.”

Both of his friends blinked at him, but Freddy recovered first. “Then where’s home?”

“Portland. John set things up for me. I can stay at his place for the rest of the year. He says he left money there too, and he wanted me to have it.” John certainly didn’t need it any longer.

“That’s…. Honestly, that’s a relief. We were worried about you.”

Carter shook his head slightly. “Don’t be. John’s given me a reprieve. I’ll figure something out eventually. I’m almost optimistic, even.”

“Good,” said Keith. “But you know you always have a landing pad with us if you need it, right?”

“I do know that.” And it was a fucking wonderful feeling.

But then Freddy looked uncomfortable again. “Um, plane tickets on short notice like this are going to cost a fortune. But we happen to have a fortune. So let us—”

“I’m driving.”

Apparently that surprised them too. “That’s, like, seven hundred miles,” Keith sputtered.

“I know. But I’d rather drive. I’m not in any hurry.” Which was true enough but wasn’t the real explanation. Instead, he kept picturing a 737 with controls gone wonky or completely dead, spiraling into the Siskiyou Mountains. Not a nice thing to imagine. Sure, he might be able to slip out of his body in a pinch, but he wasn’t sure he’d survive if his corporeal self splattered across the countryside. And then of course there was the minor matter of a planeload of passengers and crew.

He didn’t want to discuss his electrical complications with his friends. He might eventually tell them what had happened to him, but not now when it was still so new. So he lied. “I have a new appreciation for old cars. Do you think you guys could help me find something pronto? Something reliable and cheap and pre-1980.” He was just guessing, but he hoped cars didn’t have onboard computers back then.

Naturally, his vehicular choice mystified Freddy and Keith, but after he evaded their questions, they agreed to help. They trudged up to Freddy and Keith’s hotel room, where Freddy searched Craigslist on his laptop. He found a ’71 Dodge Dart in Hayward for five grand. The remaining paint was green and ugly, but the ad claimed it ran well.

“Those things had a Slant Six,” said Keith, who proved unexpectedly expert in such matters. “It’ll cost you a fortune in gas, but those engines last forever. And if anything breaks, it should be pretty easy to fix. They’re not complicated cars.”

“That what I need. Uncomplicated.”

Keith called the number in the ad and arranged for them to head over to look to the car. Then Carter gathered his belongings into his suitcase, slung the duffel bag over his shoulder, and went down to the lobby to check out.

Hayward wasn’t far away, but Keith and Freddy spent the drive delicately but plainly testing Carter’s sanity. The weird thing, though, was that Carter felt saner than he ever had, clear-headed and purposeful. He knew what he was and, for now at least, knew where he was going. He even had a plan to get there. That was better than he’d managed in years.

The Dart wasn’t any prettier in person. The seller was a slightly wizened older man who claimed to have inherited it from his father. “Let my daughter drive it when she was in school, but now she’s got a job and a Camry and don’t need this car no more. I don’t need it either,” he said, gesturing at the pickup parked in the open garage. “And my wife’s nagging me to get this off the driveway. Brings down property values, she says.” He laughed asthmatically.

Maybe his story was bullshit, but Keith took a quick look and said he didn’t see anything obviously wrong under the hood. The tires were pretty new too. “But I’m not a mechanic,” he reminded Carter.

“I know.” Carter turned to the old guy. “Look. I need to get to Portland. Tell me the truth—is this thing going to get me there in one piece and in a reasonable amount of time?”

“Sure thing, mister. You’ll have to watch the oil level and take it easy over the mountains. But it’ll do.”

What the hell. At least if Carter crashed the car, he wouldn’t bring a jetload of people with him.

He drove the Dart around for a few miles, and when it didn’t fall apart, he ended up paying $4500 for it. Well, Freddy paid, but Carter swore he’d reimburse him after he returned home. That saved the remainder of his cash on hand—much of which had been John’s—for gas and food. And oil.

Once Freddy paid for the car and the seller signed the papers, Carter arranged to meet his friends at a diner they’d passed after exiting the freeway. It wasn’t a fancy place, which was good. The Dart didn’t look too out of place in the parking lot. Carter still wasn’t very hungry, but he ate pancakes and thought about John. Freddy and Keith each ate an enormous burger—and proclaimed the food surprisingly tasty. Over coffee afterward, Freddy called his insurance agent and arranged coverage for Carter’s new car. A nearby FedEx store allowed him to print the confirmation e-mail so that Carter would have proof if he got pulled over.