Z. Rex (2 page)

That was then, and this is now,
Adam thought. Mum had died four years ago, and Dad had thrown himself ever further into his work perfecting Ultra-Reality. But developing a new games system wasn’t cheap, especially one as groundbreaking as U-R. And since the really big players had passed on it—“too ambitious,” they’d said—Mr. Adlar had been forced to work with smaller companies. So far, these firms had always run out of funding before he could deliver the goods, and Adam had watched his dad grow grayer and gaunter with each setback.

“I dunno. . . .” Adam shrugged. “Maybe I didn’t imagine what I wanted to do hard enough?”

Mr. Adlar shook his head. “I’ll go through the command translator log, see if any glitches jump out at me.”

“Do you think you’ll be finished before we have to get back to Edinburgh?” Adam smiled. “I mean, if it’s any help, I don’t mind missing the start of school—”

“We’ve only got the lease on the apartment till the third week of August,” Mr. Adlar murmured. “Frankly, I doubt I’ll still be here by then. There was a lot riding on today’s test. If it’s back to the drawing board . . .” He forced a smile. “Aw, what the hell, it’s not the end of the world. I have other irons in the fire.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “You mean another company’s interested in taking on Ultra-Reality?”

His dad hesitated. “Well, in developing some of the key technology, anyway. It’s a research center called Fort Ponil—someone I used to work with got in touch. They’re fairly local, based outside Los Alamos. We’re meeting this evening with a couple of suits to discuss it.”

“Oh, right.” Adam couldn’t hide his disappointment. “So, I’ve got microwave pizza for one
again
tonight, huh?”

“Sorry.” Mr. Adlar ruffled Adam’s hair. “But you know, it won’t be forever.”

Adam was soon outside on his bike in the afternoon glare, pedaling away from the ugly steel warehouse unit. The asphalt roads shimmered in the heat like dark canals as he made his way back to the apartment in a soulless, purpose-built modern block just outside the gates to the industrial park. Black Mesa, the vast, flat-topped mountain that straddled three states, loomed darkly over the arid plains beyond the chain-link fences.

The whole high-tech development felt out of place here in the epic wilderness beyond Santa Fe. Most of the buildings in these parts looked old even if they weren’t. He’d even seen gas stations disguised as ancient Native American monuments, trying to blend in. It felt wrong somehow to see industry here on show in all its sharp-angled sleekness. Adam felt a twinge of longing for the rainy skies and blackened sandstone of Scotland—followed immediately by the fear that he might be flying back there alone. He was thirteen now, not a kid, and Dad had made mutterings in the past about sending him to boarding school or to distant relatives in England. Neither option appealed much to Adam, but what could he do? He never had much say in what Dad did.

He gritted his teeth and pedaled faster. Sometimes he wished he could disappear into a virtual world where he won all the fights and just stay there.

Adam spent the night eating pizza and riffling through a bunch of new games for his Xbox. Five weeks here and he still wasn’t comfortable. The second-floor apartment was more like a show home than somewhere you’d actually live. Lacking in furniture as well as charm, it felt hollow, impersonal. No one else lived in the building, so when Dad was away the loneliness was overwhelming.

Mr. Adlar finally made it back after midnight. Adam could tell at once that something interesting had gone down. His dad seemed distracted, a bundle of nervous energy, but he was trying not to show it. That had to mean he was hopeful—Adam knew his dad’s moods better than he knew his own.

“So, how’d it go?” asked Adam, switching off the TV.

“Not much to tell at this stage,” Mr. Adlar said cagily, perching on the edge of the sofa. “But there could be. They’re doing amazing things, things you wouldn’t believe. . . .” He drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. “The organization’s bigger than I thought. They’ve got facilities all over the world—including one not a million miles from Edinburgh.”

“Yeah?” Adam perked up. “Sounds perfect!”

“Not exactly. First, I need to find out more about . . . the project.” He looked at Adam. “You can look after yourself, right, Ad? If I have to leave you on your own for a bit?”

Here we go,
thought Adam. “Why?”

“I’ve arranged a short leave of absence with my current partners—’cause if I want to secure a place with these guys, I’ve got to stay at Fort Ponil for a couple of nights. Work on some top secret stuff. Show how indispensable I can be.”

If it means we can both stay in Edinburgh, I’ll put up with anything,
thought Adam. “Look, I’m used to your work keeping you tied up for days. I can handle it. I’m big enough.”

“And ugly enough,” his dad agreed.

Adam grinned. “Plus, it means I can stay up as late as I like. Bring it on!”

“Bring it on. . . . Right.” Mr. Adlar stared into space. “Thanks, Adam. It’ll only be for two or three days, tops.”

Mr. Adlar left the next morning in the big, black Cadillac sent to collect him. Adam put on a brave face and waved his father off. But he didn’t like the look of the car. As it pulled away down the quiet, dust-blown street, it reminded him of a hearse.

The sedan disappeared with his dad into the distant mountains, which were glowing bloodred in the morning sun.

D
ad!”
Adam woke up from the nightmare, shouting for his father. Then he remembered how things were and let his head fall back against the pillow. No sense in wasting his breath.

“Day nine on my own,” he muttered.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he padded through the darkened apartment to Dad’s room, unable to resist checking.
Maybe he came back in the night,
Adam thought.
Maybe this time—

The door stood wide open. The bed was empty and unmade. A brown leather briefcase lay where he’d kicked it the night before.

Nothing had changed. Dad still wasn’t back.

Adam went back to his bedroom to work out his next move. It would probably involve playing his Xbox. He hadn’t done much else since Dad had disappeared. He checked the clock. It was five A.M. He must have dozed off around one-thirty, still in his jeans and T-shirt. The High Scores league table filled the wide screen, his name alone listed again and again.

Adam knew his mates back home in Scotland would be jealous of the life he’d been living—his own place, own space, a cookie jar full of cash, an endless supply of delivery food, no nags or hassles or
Time for bed
s. . . . But right now, he was sick of freedom.

Yawning, Adam crossed to the window. The stars were fading as the first peeps of sun warmed up New Mexico, slowly lifting the mountains’ shadows. Then he caught a sudden movement some way off, like a ripple on the air—as if something had just flitted across the sky at impossible speed. He stared hard into the brightening orange of daybreak, but didn’t see the movement again.

“Great,” Adam murmured. “Now I’m losing it.”

He’d started talking to himself a lot since Dad had gone. He’d spent the days gaming, cycling around the lonely industrial park and bugging his friends back in Edinburgh on Instant Messenger. At least
they
hadn’t totally forgotten him. And he’d gone to bed each night listening out for his father, hoping to catch the turn of the key and the front door squeaking open. But the night remained stubbornly silent, loaded with uneasy dreams.

Yesterday, for want of something better to do, he’d tried hanging out around Dad’s workplace here in the industrial park. But the team who’d used to joke around with him as their resident “test case” weren’t so friendly now. It turned out that their unit had been broken into a couple of days ago, with tons of gear nicked. And just the next day, Adam’s dad had told them he wouldn’t be coming back to work in the near future.

“Inventors don’t care about anyone,” railed one of Dad’s old team. “They live in a world of their own.”

At least he bothered to tell you,
Adam had thought,
instead of leaving you to work it out for yourselves. He could be dead for all I know.

Adam flung himself back onto his bed and switched the TV over to News 24 for some company. The Scottish anchorman was on in the mornings, which made Adam feel a little less homesick. Clearly not much had been happening in the world, as all the talk was of a film star couple breaking up and some rubbish about a giant monster spotted in a state park in southern Utah. Nothing exactly serious.

But what if something serious had happened to his dad?

Mr. Adlar had started off calling and mailing as he usually did when he was working away. Then, three days in, a single text message marked the end of all that:
Can’t get away. Friends of mine will look in on you soon. Love, Dad.

Adam had been disappointed but not too worried; this wasn’t the first time Dad had become too caught up in his work to talk, feeling himself close to a big breakthrough. It was a pain, but if it led to a contract with these Ponil people back in Edinburgh . . .

He’d nursed the hopeful thought through days four and five, though Dad’s occasional texts had given little encouragement.

And then Dad’s promised friend had turned up—some guy with the stiff, solid bearing of a soldier or security man and the name Frankie Bateman. He was a large, powerfully built guy, formidable looking despite the beer gut hanging over his waistband. “I’m from Fort Ponil. Your dad asked me to look in on you.” Bateman’s thick mustache bristled above the confident smile, and his all-American voice was as deep as the dimple on his chin. “You know, see how you’re doing.”

“When’s Dad coming home?” Adam had asked.

“Real soon.” Bateman kept smiling.

“Can’t I come and visit?”

“We’re actually getting you security clearance right now. Shouldn’t take much longer.”

“Security clearance?” Adam frowned. “Sounds like the military.”

“Nothing like that, really.” Bateman pushed his way inside. “Meantime, your dad asked me to pick up some stuff for him. . . .”

The big man spent ages in Mr. Adlar’s room, but came out with nothing but a few clothes and a sour look. Then he brought in a stack of groceries from the car, and even unpacked it while Adam watched TV. “Don’t eat it all at once, y’hear?” Bateman held up Adam’s Nokia. “Oh, and nice cell phone by the way. . . . I’ve got my eye on one like this.”

“Yeah, it’s all right,” said Adam, though in truth it was nothing special. Bateman had put down the phone and left, promising to check in again in a couple of days.

That had been three days ago. “Chances are, big Frankie’s coming today,” Adam announced out loud. “And if he does, I’ll
make
him take me to Fort Ponil, security clearance or not. He can drop me in the street if he wants, but I’m going. . . .”