Hero: A Rude Awakening [2/5]

Manufactured by Benway

When he awoke, he was sure of two things. The first was that he was lying on a bed and the second was that he'd never had such a bad hangover in his entire life, not even after he'd chugged that bottle of akavit on a dare. He tried to raise his head. It was not a good move. He laid it down until the throbbing went away. He tried to put his hands to his head, but found that he couldn't. They were held in some way, back behind his head. He was also naked. He turned his head very slowly and opened his eyes. Bad move. Even so, he got a glimpse of his wrist tied to a brass bedstead in a room that wasn't white. He was in the house with the white room. He turned his head to look at the other wrist. He opened his eyes again and saw the moon, except the moon was red and had huge, black, pupil-free eyes. He closed his own eyes and choked off a scream. He opened them again and a 12-year-old kid in a crimson uniform was standing there, not saying anything. He heard the sound of scissors opening and closing. He carefully raised his head. The blonde woman from the white room was sitting at the foot of the bed. She was wearing pale gray shapeless sweats that were much too large to her. She had a pair of scissors in her hand. Expensive scissors for cutting fabric. Very sharp.

"Do you know what these are?" she said in a voice that sounded like the kind on TV in the Sears commercials that asked you to buy something that you couldn't afford.

He tried to speak and could only groan.

"Nod if you know what I've got in my hand," she said.

He nodded. He felt her cold fingers cradle something that another hand had not touched since vicious fights on the public school playground.

"Nod if you know what I've got in my other hand," she said.

He nodded. He could feel it trying to retreat inside his body.

"We're going to have a chat," she said. "If I think you're lying, you're going to be even smaller than you are already. Understand?"

"Yes!" he croaked.

"Are then any more of you out there?" she said.

He shook his head. Bad move.

"So you're on your own," she said. "When will they be expecting you to report back in? It's ten minutes after seven."

"Tomorrow," he slurred.

He felt cold, sharp metal clamp down on shrinking meat.

"Bullshit," she hissed.

"I'm not in the army," he said.

"Then what the fuck is this?" she said, pointing to his fatigues with the long, shining blades. "You were there. I saw it in your head."

He felt the steel start to cut.

"Where's my gun?" he moaned.

"You tell me," she said.

"I don't have one," he muttered. "Did you find one?"

"Did you find one?" she said to someone else sitting in the corner.

He glanced over and saw another kid sitting there.

"No," said the kid. "No equipment in the car, except binoculars. He had a copy of a map, with drawing on it. Drawings of stuff around the centre."

He heard the scissors open.

"So why are you here?" she said.

"The dream is alive," he said.

"What?" she said.

"They say that to each other," he said. "The people in the house where they're keeping me. I'm on your side. I deserted."

"Bullshit," she said.

He felt the steel again.

"Can't you read what's in my head?" he said. "Can't you tell I'm telling the truth?"

"Lee won't let me," she said.

"Almost fried your brain before I stopped her," said the kid in the corner. "Holding her back."

"Let her do it, man," he said. "For fuck's sakes, I'm telling the truth!"

"Promise not to kill?" said the kid.

"If he's telling the truth," she said.

"O.K.," said the kid.

"I'm working for the underground," he said. "Jamie Madrox's keeping me hidden for a press conference. He doesn't know I'm here. I wanted to see the fire zone again."

"He's telling the truth," she said, unable to keep the amazement out of her voice. "Stupid fucker's telling the truth."

"Talk first, shoot later," said the kid. "What you always say to the others."

She turned back to him.

"So this young man is one of us, is he?" she said. "He hardly looks old enough to drive."

She smiled. It wasn't a very nice smile.

"You want to see the fire zone, do you?" she said.

A blast shook the room. The poured concrete walls moved, visibly. He/She hung back, just inside the gaping hole in the concrete. He/She looked back towards the house.

"We can't leave them!" screamed the girl beside him/her the girl from the anatomy lesson alive not dead.

"We have to go NOW!" screamed a man in sweater/Sean.

The girl who was dead/Kitty turned and ran out into the yard. There was a flash and the whole structure shook again. A huge gray cloud erupted from where the girl was standing.

"NO!" he screamed, but no sound came out as she turned back to the man.

"She's gone after them!" he/she screamed at the man in the sweater.

"Where the hell's Kate?" said the man who got shot/Wisdom emerging from a side corridor. "We have to go NOW."

"Get her back!" yelled the man in the sweater/Sean.

"No," he/she said.

He/She looked around the edge of the hole. The girl/Kitty was running up to a crater, unscathed by the explosion. He/She turned back to Sean.

"She's got them," he/she said.

He/She looked out again. Kitty was carrying two small children/deformed monsters. The one with wings was struggling. Kitty was walking on air. The struggling kid broke free and fell, its wings beating uselessly. Pete took off past her, towards Kitty.

"Bollocks!" screamed Cassidy, turning to her. "Get them back here, NOW!"

He/She looked out again. Pete was halfway to Kitty. Kitty was on the ground reaching with one hand for the kid with wings while holding the other and-

He screamed. Bedroom. He screamed again, straining at the bonds. The feeling cut out. He flopped back to the mattress. Somehow one hand was free. He turned his head and puked on the mattress.

"The fire zone," she said quietly. "I hope that you enjoyed it as much as I did."

He watched a small trickle of blood emerge from her nose. Everything went red, then black.

*****

He woke up in a bed. Something had happened, something that had involved being tied up and the blonde woman from the white room who could read minds. He moved his legs. They weren't bound. He was naked, but at least there was a sheet. There was a pair of steel shears embedded in the mattress at the foot of the bed. There was also a painfully thin kid sitting on the dresser, wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and shorts.

"What-" he said.

"Made her make you forget," said the kid.

"Forget what?" he said.

"Don't want to know," said the kid. "Hear you're with us."

"You were the kid I saw run into the bush," he said.

"Heard you yelling in the car," said the kid. "Name's Lee."

"Marc," he said.

"Heard you were one of them," said Lee.

"I was," he said.

"Why'd you quit?" said Lee.

"Didn't want to kill kids anymore," he said.

"Wish you'd decided that sooner," said Lee.

He looked away, searching for his pants.

"Sorry," said Lee. "Cheap shot."

"What's your deal?" he said.

"Turn off meta-attributes," said Lee.

"Like her mind-reading?" he said, putting on his shirt.

"Like that," said Lee. "Got another one too."

"What's that?" he said.

"This," said Lee, reaching behind his neck.

He froze. Lee wasn't there anymore. Instead, there was something uglier than the moon with eyes. Its head was green and flaccid and had yellow multi-pupiled eyes. Damp purple tissues throbbed asynchronously on the sides of its neck. A thin spindly green arm flicked a switch behind its neck and the thin boy re-appeared.

"What-" he said.

"Look like that," said Lee. "Don't like getting stared at."

"Shit," he said, still unmoving.

"Might be able to find one for you," said Lee. "Could pass for white."

"The woman-" he said.

"Name's Emma," said Lee. "Looks like that. No enhancer needed."

An image of Emma appeared in mid-air. She was dressed in a white leather suit that left little to the imagination. He had thoughts that he'd never had about a blonde woman before. The image flickered off, revealing the other kid standing in the doorway.

"Ah, my name's Marc," he said.

The letters M, A, R, and K appeared, floating in the air.

"With a 'C'," he said.

A 'C' appeared, and then the letters rearranged themselves in space, somehow becoming ARTIE.

"He can't speak," said Lee.

"Let's see you," he said. "No enhance-thing."

Artie reached behind his neck and the moon head appeared. He took a deep breath. Artie smiled. He forced himself to smile back, and it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.

*****

Lee gave him the sitrep, and it left him uneasy. Use of the telephone was forbidden, which made sense. Going outside was unwise but he pointed out that, if they were watched from orbit, his car would be seen. Lee let him move it into the garage. He pointed out that he would be missed if he didn't call in later in the day. Lee shrugged, and said he'd talk about it with Emma later. He asked where the people who owned the house were. Lee said that Emma had made them go on vacation for two weeks. He asked how many days of food they had. Lee didn't know. He asked how long they were planning to hide. Lee didn't answer. He suggested that he would drive them to a safe house. Lee refused. He asked what Lee could do to stop him. Lee suggested that Emma would, and could at long distances. If he didn't want to die on the road, he should stay within sight of the house.

"It's crazy to stay here," he said. "You're too damn close to the security perimeter."

"She's gotten rid of them before," said Lee.

"They might declare martial law," he said. "If they do, they'll put up checkpoints on the highways and it will be harder to get out."

"She doesn't want to," said Lee.

"Doesn't want to or can't?" he said.

Lee shrugged.

"When was the last time you guys had a real meal?" he asked.

"Before," said Lee.

"We should make an inventory of food," he said. "Clean this place up. This isn't our house."

Lee shrugged again. Artie flashed an image. He saw himself in it, dressed in a lime green 50s dress with a kerchief on his head and standing in a gleaming white steel kitchen.

"No way," he said, a smile crossing his face

The image changed to one of him in fatigues, brandishing a broom against a giant snarling monster made of cereal boxes and unwashed plates.

"I think there's something missing, guys," he said.

Two smaller figures appeared beside him in the image, also clad in fatigues and brandishing smaller brooms.

"You got it," he said.

"Fine," grumbled Lee.

"Come on," he said. "What if this was your house? What, did you grow up in a hole in the ground or something?"

"Yes," said Lee. "I did."

*****

It took them all morning and part of the afternoon to clean all of the dishes that had been used. Every time that he seemed to be making a dent in the vast pile, Artie would bring him more cups or plates. From the cheese stains, they seemed to have been living on microwaved nachos. He set Lee to cleaning the bathroom and making a list of the food that they had. He could have used another pair of hands, but neither Artie nor Lee were tall enough to reach the sink, and he felt no desire to ask Emma to come down and help. After the dishes, had run the vacuum through the living room and the place looked half as clean as his mother's.

He sat down at the kitchen table with Lee, and looked at the list. It would have been quicker just to look on his own, but he had needed something to keep Lee busy. It didn't look good.

"You guys had any fruits or vegetables lately?" he said.

"Some," said Lee.

Artie projected a corn chip.

"Anything else?" he asked. "Anything fresh?"

"Ran out of salsa," said Lee.

Artie projected a fruit bowl with two spotted bananas and a small orange in them.

"That's it?" he said. "What about meat?"

"Had meat," said Lee.

Artie projected a can of Spam, then another, then another, until the room started to fill up with the things.

"That much?" he said.

A huge calendar appeared with the word 'December' on it. It was flipped away by an invisible hand to reveal red flashing 'Y2K'. He'd thought the cans looked a bit dusty. He hadn't been able to touch Spam since his school trip to the Spam plant, but the thought of eating Spam as old as Y2K brought on a wave of nausea.

"And that's what she's been eating?" he said.

"Found some vitamins, too," said Lee, nodding.

"What about-" he started, but Lee held up his hand.

"Want to help?" said Lee. "Come."

He followed Lee out of the room and with mounting fear as they went up the stairs to the white room. She was sitting up on the mattress, looking at them with blue eyes that had whites tinged with red. He thought of the picture that Artie had flashed, of the woman in the white leather suit. If her hair were cleaned and brushed, if she were sitting up straight instead of slumped against the wall, if the small trickle of dried blood from her nose hadn't been there, he could have made the connection. She hadn't looked this bad when he was tied to the bed.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she said to him. "You'll have to help me down the stairs."

As he did, he wondered how she had managed it. She could barely stand without help, and Lee didn't seem large enough.

"He's stronger than he looks," she said.

He supported her weight with a hand around her waist. He could feel that she was not diet-thin, but athlete-thin, the kind of thin that he was, all muscle and skin, no fat at all.

"I've been lucky," she said.

He felt himself flush.

"At least you haven't imagined fucking me yet," she said.

He almost dropped her, and tried to think of anything but how she might look under all that thick cotton.

"Typical," she muttered.

At the bathroom door, she managed to stand on her own, supported by the doorframe.

"That's all," she said.

Lee followed her in and closed the door. He sat in a kitchen chair and waited. He heard panting. He heard moans. He could hear the television in the other room, where Artie was watching it. Fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Lee came out, grim-faced.

"Need you again," said Lee.

Going up the stairs was harder, as she stumbled twice. He didn't have time to think of what she looked like or felt like, and she seemed to be laboring too much to make it worth her while to tell him. She collapsed onto the mattress in the white room.

"You care," she said. "How sweet."

She closed her eyes, and appeared to fall asleep immediately. He followed Lee back down the stairs.

"We've got to talk," he said.

"About what?" said Lee.

"About what's wrong with her," he said. "Did she get hurt in the fighting?"

"Meaning did she get hit by a shell?" said Lee.

"Yes," he said between gritted teeth.

"No," said Lee.

"That is one seriously sick woman," he said.

"Just needs rest," said Lee.

"Like hell," he said. "Didn't you hear her panting on the stairs? Can't you tell how she smells? It's not just that she needs a bath."

"Can't smell," said Lee.

"This food isn't helping with whatever it is," he said.

"How'd you know?" said Lee.

"I helped look after my grandmother when she got old, before we had to put her in the home," he said. "I know sick. Emma's sick."

"Solomon-Barr," said Lee.

"What's that?" he said.

"Something 'paths get," said Lee.

"So what is it?" he said.

"Don't know," said Lee. "Only said it once."

He looked at Lee. Lee didn't appear to be lying, but then he couldn't really see Lee's face. Even if he could, he wouldn't have known what to look for.

An image appeared between them, of him climbing into a cartoon car and driving to a big square box with the word 'help' written on it. He saw Artie standing in the living room doorway.

"You've done a good job so far," he said to Lee. "You've kept her alive."

"Go," said Lee.

He was surprised to see that the enhancer could simulate tears.

########

The drive into Dayton was uneventful. He passed some Army trucks on the road, but they were all going towards the farm. He reached Dayton at 4, and had an hour to hit the library before it closed. He found some books on telepaths, but most seemed to be sensational, offering no useful information. He tried Britannica, and that pointed him to a book in Reference. He found the entry on Solomon-Barr Disease, and left the library at a run. He almost didn't stop for food but then, when he thought of what he'd read, he did. On the way out, he saw a phone booth and remembered that he was supposed to call in.

"What the hell are you doing in Dayton?" said one of the Quakers.

"Had to see the fire zone," he said.

The reply was unintelligible.

"Are you completely fucking out of your fucking mind?" said Madrox, breaking in.

"I found someone," he said. "Someone who could make me forget I saw her, and someone who could stop her from making me forget."

"Holy shit," said Madrox. "Holy fucking shit. Where are they?"

"Too close," he said.

"Get them out," he said.

"She's got SB," he said.

"SB?" said Madrox. "What the hell's that? No, wait, don't say any more. Do what you can. Call me tomorrow, early."

He drove as fast as he could safely go back to the house. All the way back, he expected to see MPs blocking the road, leaping out of the bushes, pointing M-16s in his face. Instead, the checkpoint he'd seen the day before was gone. When he reached the house he left the food in the car and tore past Lee, heading straight for her room.

"She's sleeping," he heard Lee say from below.

She was sleeping, curled up under the sheets, just like the day before. He hesitated. He heard Lee on the stairs behind him. He crouched down beside her and touched her cheek. Her eyes opened. They were a remarkable shade of blue, almost gray. The whites weren't white. They were yellow, and shot with blood. He heard Lee come in behind him.

"Ma'am," he said.

"Well, now we both know," said Emma.

"I've got food," he said.

"Lee, get it from the car," she said.

He turned. Lee was trying to conceal a steak knife.

"Please," said Emma.

Lee's eyes widened, then he turned and left.

"I've got fruit, I've got meat, I've-", he said.

"I couldn't send him," she said. "He would never have made it."

"How bad is it?" he said.

"Pretty bad," she said. "I think I've been switching back and forth between alpha and beta stages since yesterday. I was in alpha until I blasted you."

He turned away.

"Lee saved us both," she said.

"He's a good kid," he said.

"I didn't tell him the details about SB," she said.

"The book said it was rare," he said.

"It is," she said. "It's just that most telepaths aren't locked into a mind when it's blown apart."

"Oh," he said.

"We weren't expecting that," she said. "We had SAMs, we had TOWs, we had beam weapons, but no-one thought you would use artillery. All that effort, and we couldn't do a thing to protect ourselves. You took out all the beam weapons and half our aircraft in the first salvo by sheer luck."

"What was that place?" he asked.

"A nest of terrorists," she said. "Killers. We kept children to slaughter in case you attacked, so we might get good press."

"I couldn't believe him when he said that," he said.

"Killing hostages can be an effective tactic, though not one I would use," she said.

"It is?" he said.

"Where life is cheap," she said. "The farm was a refuge, not a base for any kind of fighting force. A place where our kind could hide if they couldn't live in plain sight. We were there for the July 4 celebration. More of us than I've seen in one place in ages. I told them it was a stupid thing to do in a political climate like this, but they never listen to me."

"Onslaught," he said. "That was one of you."

"It was," she said. "But we were the ones who beat him. The man who was Onslaught wasn't even there. All my kids were."

"Your kids," he said.

"You shot one," she said.

His mouth was dry. He couldn't look at her.

"He was dying in terrible pain," she said. "It was almost a merciful act."

"Almost," he said.

"One part of me knows that there would be no justice if he had gone on," she said. "Another part would have had him kill you all, in which case I'd end up lying here and drowning in my own bile. Funny how that works out, isn't it?"

"No," he said. "It fucking stinks."

"Yes," she agreed. "It does."

They sat in silence. He heard the sounds of grocery bags being brought into the kitchen.

"You need to eat," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"I'll make it as palatable as I can," he said.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've had worse. Thank you."

She said the last words in a voice so low that he barely heard them.

*****

He had intended to watch her eat the liver, but as soon as he had tipped it out of its tub, all he could think of was the dead old man lying in a puddle of guts in the hallway of the house. When he had finished throwing up, he found that Lee had taken it up to her on his own. He stayed in the kitchen and set to making sandwiches for the kids. He laid lettuce over sliced tomatoes over sliced breast of chicken over mayonnaise over brown bread. He took another handful of bread slices to lay on top and finish when he froze. One slice of lettuce was almost the same as the tarp that covered the body of the anatomy lesson/Kitty. He shook his head, wondering where the name had come from. There was something thin and pale sticking out from under the lettuce. Logic said chicken but to his eyes it looked like a tiny, Barbie-doll-sized hand and arm. There was something red running from underneath not pale like tomato but dark like blood. He reached for the lettuce and a bolt of pain shot across his forehead. He grunted and collapsed to the floor, burying his head in his hands and trying to make the pain go away. All of a sudden, it did. He rose to his feet shaking, back to the counter. He closed his eyes and turned back to the sandwiches. He opened his eyes and looked at lettuce over tomato over chicken over mayonnaise over bread. He shook his head, wondering what on earth had just happened. He put a last slice of bread on each of the sandwiches and set to making himself an omelet.

When Lee returned, they ate in silence. There were no more words during the dishes, until Artie went back into the living room to watch TV.

"Fucked up," said Lee.

"You did your best," he said.

"Shells falling everywhere," said Lee. "She got us out."

"It's over a mile to the next highway," he said.

"She carried me part of the way," said Lee. "Wouldn't have saved her."

"But you did," he said.

"Got lucky," said Lee. "Know what they did when they got to the compound?"

"No," he said.

He had the oddest idea that he ought to know what had happened, but that somehow he had forgotten.

"Most of us were hiding in the barn," said Lee. "Shelled it with white phosphorous."

He remembered Velasquez and Fred loading the WP shells into the breech. He remembered the lectures on the shit, how it stuck to the flesh like chewing gum and burst into an unextinguishable flame almost immediately, burning white hot until even the bones were ash.

"Did she tell you what I did?" he said.

"Some of it," said Lee.

"Did she tell you how I felt about it?" he said.

"Some of it," said Lee.

"Then can we fucking stop talking about it?" he snarled. "Are your own hands so clean?"

"No," said Lee.

"So what's really important here?" he said. "What's the mission?"

"To save Emma," said Lee.

"To save Emma," he repeated.

He put his hand to shake, then almost pulled back when Lee's tiny, moist, sticky hand grasped it. He didn't pull back. Lee shook it solemnly, and did not return his smile.

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