The Dream Widow (5 page)

Jack sat in the back pew and bowed his head. The wood of the seat was hard and slick against the seat of his pants.

“Are you listening? I know you’re out there. It’s Jack.”

A cotton ball shaped like a unicorn galloped over his bare toes.

“I’ve never asked for anything. When you stopped talking to me I gave up. I’m sorry about that. Maybe I thought it was my fault, but I need your help now.”

Leaves rustled and twigs snapped like a truck smashing through a hedge. The walnut doors at the back of the church burst open and a black Labrador trotted in, tongue lolling and covered in brambles. He shook his coat and green, oval leaves flew everywhere.

Jack scratched the dog on the head. It rolled on the azure carpet, legs in the air, and Jack laughed in spite of himself.

A measured female voice curled through his mind.

See? You just need a friend.

“Parvati?”

Don’t use that name. I told you before.

“I knew you’d be back,” Jack said.

You don’t believe in God. Why did you make this church?

“None of your business.”

Lightning flashed in the windows. Seconds later thunder rolled and rain pattered on the roof. As Jack sat quietly in his pew the sound increased to a roar of white noise.

What happens when it rains cats and dogs?

Jack shook his head.

You can step in a poodle.

The Labrador stood on his hind legs and Jack shook an outstretched paw.

“I’m dying,” he said.

Aren’t we all?

“I’m not joking. You know what happens when I die. Is there another way to control the base? Some kind of backup?”

Sure there is. Let’s go.

The church snapped away, replaced by a dim corridor lit by crimson wall panels. Ahead of Jack a solid pile of fallen stone blocked the way. The black dog scrambled and sniffed at the base of the pile.

“There’s nothing here.”

You remember the earthquake?

“Don’t tell me the control room is buried under that rock.”

All right. I won’t tell you.

Jack sighed. “What about the reactor? If we’ve still got power, the operating panel has to be good.”

Not really, dear.

The corridor snapped into empty space. Jack gasped and stepped back from a deep circular pit. Near the top, a giant, metallic sphere crackled with lightning. The sky-blue energy sparkled from the sphere and coursed in circles of lighting along the smooth walls of the pit to an infinite, disappearing point. A narrow catwalk above Jack crossed the pit and led to a metal cylinder that supported the sphere.

“The reactor,” he said.

No, the discharge chamber. Extra power bleeds into the earth from here, and across the catwalk is the backup control panel for the reactor.

“I’m glad somebody knows what they’re doing,” said Jack.

You know more than I do about this room.

“I must have been kicked in the head recently because I can’t remember any of it.”

Someday you might.

Daylight and the white walls of the church appeared. Jack covered his eyes from the light.

“That’s better,” he said.

Why did you build a church?

Jack leaned against the smooth side of a pew. “My father was a preacher. I grew up here.”

Do you feel safe?

“I don’t know what I feel,” Jack said, his voice rising. “It’s all fake. This place, my feelings, maybe even these memories. I’m just a half-dead old man living in a fish tank. Maybe some long-dead brainiac stuck this in my head like a screensaver. Maybe it’s really his church, and his father. But it doesn’t matter because this place makes me feel better. That’s it and no more.”

That’s fine with me.

Parvati began to sing:

I love to tell the story; more wonderful it seems

Than all the golden fancies of all our golden dreams.

I love to tell the story, it did so much for me;

And that is just the reason I tell it now to thee.

Jack couldn’t help but join her.

WILSON LEANED AGAINST the wall of the corridor. All he could hear from his mother’s room was the murmur of Reed’s voice.

Badger pulled at her puffy crimson skirt with a loud rustle. “At least she stopped breaking things,” she whispered.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I really need to wear something normal.”

“Dear, you can go back to the party. We can handle this.”

She kissed him and left. A few minutes later Reed came out of the room. He closed the door quietly.

“How is she?”

Reed shook his head. “I’ve probably made it worse, but you can go in.”

Smashed wooden carvings and broken crockery covered the floor. His mother sat in a corner of the bedroom, hair over her face in a mess and eyes staring at the wall.

Wilson found a broom. He picked up the larger pieces and swept the rest. When he finished, his mother was still in the same corner, with the same blank expression on her face.

He sat on the floor beside her.    

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

His mother shook her head. “I’m not mad at you, Cubbie. You didn’t speak bald-faced lies to me for nine years. You didn’t smile at me for nine years, all the time knowing how stupid I was.”

“Some of the others knew too, it wasn’t just––”

“That doesn’t matter. They’re not the leader of this village. They’re not the self-righteous Sunday preacher.”

Wilson twisted his mouth grimly and nodded. “He lied to me, too, a few months ago when Badger was sick. I had to sneak into the database to find out the truth.”

“There’s no truth anymore,” said his mother. “Since I was a little girl I was told things by my mother and the priests that were just made up. Now everyone knows the founders were normal people. Their rules and the reasons for living––all fake. Taking the names of founders and their implants, the stories about going to Heaven through the Tombs––all fairy tales for us, the ignorant, silly boys and girls. Is there a single part of my life that isn’t a lie?”

“Don’t talk like that. We’re still trying to protect knowledge for the future. That hasn’t changed.”

“Ha! The future.” She moved her empty gaze from the wall to Wilson. “Was your father happy? Out in the wilderness with those ... people?”

“He saved lives. He knew how to avoid some of the diseases in the tribes and cure others. He helped to build a safe village for a tribe, the people at David. Of course I asked him why–”

His mother bit her lip. “Don’t say he wished he’d never left. Don’t tell me about a good man who left his wife and son. Don’t tell me he died helping you. Don’t tell these things to me. Not now and maybe not ever.”

THREE

H
ausen spread his hands wide on the meeting room table. “Impossible. You can’t expect us to survive the winter without heat and a supply of water. The old fool under the mountain doesn’t understand that.”

“Jack’s giving us time to prepare, he’s not abandoning us,” said Father Reed. “There’s no time to debate what he does or doesn’t understand. The part of him that’s still human won’t live forever. That is a singular, impossible outcome.”

“Why not wait until the spring thaw?”

Wilson cleared his throat. “If the reactor fails, we won’t have time to escape. Not five hundred people with everything they need to survive. The radiation––the ‘ghost-sickness’––will cover the valley and everything in it. It won’t leave for generations.”

“It sounds to me that an orderly shutdown of the reactor will let us stay here,” said a tall, gray-haired hunter. “We’ll have to think about water supplies and wood stoves, but we’ll be safe.”

“Simpson is right,” said Hausen. “The living areas are below the frost line and will stay warm.”

Wilson sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. “You’re asking Jack to kill himself.”

“Hundreds of young and old will die in the wastes if we leave,” said Simpson. “He’s just one man.”

“Who’s kept us alive for hundreds of years,” said Wilson. “He’s been buried in the Tombs since the days of the Founders. Alone. His family dead. Any given morning he could have decided our lives weren’t worth saving. And you know what? On that morning none of us would wake up.”

“You’re too close to him,” said Hausen. “I’ve spent my life in the workshop keeping all of us stocked with crossbows and knives that don’t snap. I’ve spent my life protecting the valley too. I’m not going to throw that away!”

Father Reed stood from the meeting table. “Stop it, Dan! No one’s asking you to.”

“We’re here to talk about options,” said Wilson.

Hausen shook his head. “Run away from everything and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a hero. Well, you’re not. You want to look into the eyes my wife and children and tell them we have to leave? Abandon everything and scrounge for food like the vultures outside this valley? You’re a child with dreams in his eyes.”

Wilson stood up, a hand on his knife. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Reed cracked his cane on the table. “Stop it, both of you. When the Circle gets here you’ll have more than enough chances to prove who’s a man.”

“The Circle, this group you’ve talked about,” said Hausen. “They destroyed one village––David, where the refugees came from. They don’t sound dangerous to me but let’s say they are. That’s another reason to stay in the valley. We’ll never find another place this well-defended.”

“A falling tree kills the unwary,” said Yishai.

“Or the stupid,” said Wilson. “Winter is approaching and they won’t march before spring. Even after the snow melts they may not come this far west.”

“It’s possible,” said Yishai. “Much depends on who leads the army. I’ve fought the Circle a few times over the years. Among them are a handful of shrewd fighters who strike fast and when you do not expect it.”

“Then we must prepare,” said Father Reed. “Hausen, work on a defense plan for the perimeter as far as two kilometers out. You’ve got your men plus Simpson and his hunters.”

“Got it,” said Hausen.

“Chefa Yishai, I want your men to build defenses in the valley proper and up to the pass. I want a plan by tomorrow. If the Circle enters the valley we can’t just give up.”

The large man nodded.

“Wilson has been training a group in the implant techniques and I want him to continue. Garcia will be coordinating supplies. See him for any requests apart from manpower needs, which will go through Zhang. Any questions?”

“Yes,” said Simpson. “Why are only youngsters getting trained in the new tricks?”

“Teenagers learn the fastest,” said Wilson. “Their brains are more receptive to the implant connections. Adults don’t learn as quickly, and the documents I have don’t say why. My best guess is that the implants have only been in the body of a teenager for a few years––since Passing at age twelve––so the nerve receptors are still growing.”

“I see.”

Father Reed lifted his hand. “If that’s everything, gentlemen ...”

“But we haven’t resolved the main problem,” said Wilson. “Jack.”

“That’s my responsibility,” said Reed.

“God save us if we have to leave Station,” said Simpson.

Reed grimaced and stared at each face around the table. “Whether He saves us or not, we plan for everything. Including failure.”

WILSON LEFT the rectory. As he climbed the steps to the surface he heard voices from the plaza. Probably finishing the wedding clean-up, he thought.

A red-haired teenager stumbled into Wilson and almost knocked him down the rectory steps.

“Watch it, Robb!”

The teenager grabbed Wilson’s sleeve. “Come on! There’s been a fight.”

He ran across the plaza at a breakneck pace. Wilson followed him down the steps of the Office living quarters and through the metal doors of the airlock. Robb turned left and right as he ran through the dim hallways.

His mother’s rooms were in this section. Robb ran past her door and Wilson decided to breath again.

Around a corner stood a cluster of villagers, and Wilson pushed into the center. On the floor lay a pale teenage boy in a fringed buckskin jacket. At his side, the chestnut-braided Kaya pressed her bloody hands on a dark red patch spreading across the young man’s midsection.

“It’s Flora’s son Delmar,” said Robb. “Took a knife to the belly.”

Wilson touched the boy’s forehead and looked for other injuries. On the floor he noticed a short kitchen knife smeared with blood.

“You pulled it out?”

“Don’t jump down my throat! That was on the floor when I got here,” said Robb.

“Cat’s teeth,” said Wilson. “You, you, and you. Pick him up by the arms and legs. Kaya, hold down on that cloth and don’t let go. Robb, run and tell Father Reed.”

Wilson took a leg and three boys took the other limbs. They carried the limp Delmar at a running pace through the dark corridors and bright afternoon sunshine to the rectory.