Louse (25 page)

“Those are for you,” he says to me and looks at Ms. Lonesome. He points at two parachutes crowding the corners of the cargo hold. “Let me show you,” he says.

“Is this necessary?” I ask as Ms. Lonesome slips her arms through one parachute's straps.

“Yes, Mortimer. You'll enjoy it. Trust me.”

“I'll show you, Mortimer,” Ms. Lonesome says. “Arms and legs,” she says. “Just like so.” Ms. Lonesome points to what she has done. And I do it, too. I pull the heavy pack toward me. Herman lifts it up and rests it on my back. Ms. Lonesome secures the straps and the harness. There is a lot of clicking and pulling and the next thing I know I am all strapped in with the round metal handle of the rip cord hanging from my chest.

“Leave the hull door open,” he says, looking at me. “I'll tell you when.”

In a way I already know. I have been watching it done for some time now. I have no fear. I want to do this. I want to jump to earth. Oh, what a relief it will be when I finally get there, to the ground, to feel the ground.

“There is a car waiting for you,” he says. “Take it onto the highway and go east, in the direction of N. No one will find you. I've given you what you need.”

I look at Ms. Lonesome and then back to Mr. Louse and then at Helga Zimmerwitz, who is so full of smiles I can't help but find her endearing.

Herman, barely able to climb through the cockpit door, takes his seat next to his father and turns on the engines. The explosion of propeller wind erupts through the chambers. I can already feel my body descending through the air and we haven't even moved yet. I want to feel motion again. I want to float and fall one last time and feel myself sink into the grit of the earth. For a moment I have a sensation of that briefcase falling through the shaft of darkness into the bowels of the building underneath us and I wonder what it might have revealed.

“In time you'll have everything back,” Helga says as she sticks a piece of gum in her mouth and jabs her finger at her temple. “Hermee got me kicked already. I remember everything.” She laughs. “Have I gotta story, boy.” Helga smacks her gum. Ms. Lonesome ignores her and looks out into the sky. For the first time since I have faced her I can see lines forming around her eyes, as though the sunlight has instantaneously aged her.

Ms. Lonesome turns her point of view from the sky to me, looks closely, observes my face. I don't look away from her. I want to fall to earth with you, I think. I want to fall to earth with you.

“I want to fall to earth with you,” I say.

The engines wind up and the plane begins to move as Celia turns away from me and looks back to the blue sky. We both take hold of a strap overhead and hold firm as Herman accelerates down
the runway. The motion of the plane rises in my throat as the wind rushes into the hull and wraps itself around my cheeks with heavy thrusts. I can feel every motion the plane takes as it lifts and falls and lifts off the roof. I look to the cockpit where I can see Herman's arms maneuvering the plane and I notice Poppy's head turning in search of the view. He is cradling a box of butterflies in his palms.

The plane dips and turns and straightens as we lift off. When we clear the building I can feel the pull of gravity on the nose. We pass the hills I was looking at last night in Mr. Sherwood's office. I can see men milling about, trucks crawling toward the immense silver starfish-of-a-building. I can see the deep craters from the explosions where part of the structure has yet to be started and have a vision of what Poppy's chambers would have looked like, finished, shrouded in bright constellations. And I have an image in my mind of the structure, many years from now, very slowly deteriorating in the arid climate.

As we lift higher into the air, we circle the skyscraper for a second time. It reflects the sun in every window facing east.

“There they go, Mr. Blank,” Herman screams back at me.

Helga yelps with glee. “Look at them!” she screams and giggles.

A large group of men and women in gray flannel suits have wandered outside the building. Some are traipsing through the parking lot. Others huddle in small groups. They point up to us, using their hands and arms to shield their eyes from the sun.

Herman turns on a stereo that amplifies Mozart's “Requiem” through the hull, with a dull, pulsing rhythm keeping time with the drone of the engines. The music undulates through my head and I hear the melody that was following me all night, and for whatever reason I now recall the song I've been trying to remember…

I can't place where it's coming from, but I remember the stereo in the room and the voice coming from behind. I can hear her voice…as I drive in the car down the dark road behind the truck.

We fly into the distance away from the rising sun and sit listening to Poppy's music, silent as we ride through the bumpy stream of air.

“Are you ready, Ms. Lonesome?” Mr. Louse screams over the engines.

“Yes,” she says.

I inch over to the open door and look out to the ground and see the metal of the car shimmering back the morning sun. We are some miles away from G. The land is barren, layered with red and orange sediment. I am still focused on the face in my memory. I can see her head from behind, her hair in her face.

Ms. Lonesome crouches at the door of the plane, looking down to the vastness of the desert. I look at her and can see myself reaching out to her face, taking hold of her chin and kissing her on the lips, there shrouded under the starry sky of the cupola in Paradise.

Ms. Lonesome looks at me. And I suddenly have a vision of her sitting before me in a red velvet dress.

“See you on the ground, Mortimer,” she says in a barely audible voice. Then without the slightest hesitation, she jumps and is carried off into the wind.

“Follow her, Mortimer,” Herman says.

I look into the cockpit for a moment and see Herman looking back at me. Helga is looking at me. I can see Poppy's hand is no longer gripping the butterfly but it is swinging limp at his side. And for some strange reason there is a bird headed directly toward the windshield. The bird's wingspan is long and elegant, and just like Herman it is looking back, maybe for its flock, I think. And then, sure enough, the flock rises behind it, and I think I won't say anything because suddenly I can see that face in my head as we turn toward each other and I can see her singing into the small, closed eyes of a child and I understand what it means and I can feel what's been lost.

“It's time, Mr. Blank,” Herman says.

“All right,” I say slowly and deliberately.

As the birds are only inches away from the thin windshield, I can see them as clearly as the faces in my head and I can hear the voice singing a little off-key. With the wind rippling my cheeks I don't look to the ground, but I jump as I hear the glass crash and the screams shrill and it all drifts away and I am finally falling.

 

Thank you for buying this

Picador ebook.

 

To receive special offers, bonus content,

and info on new releases and other great reads,

sign up for our newsletters.

 

Or visit us online at

us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

 

For email updates on the author, click
here
.

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Notice

Dedication

(Found in Room 33D: Filing Cabinet)

(Found in a Safety Deposit Box in the City of N.)

1. THE EXECUTIVE CONTROLLING PARTNER

2. THE EXECUTIVE CONTROLLING PARTNER'S HAGIOGRAPHY

3. THE FIRST NIGHT

4. THE FUTURE TRUSTEE

5. THE BOX OF BUTTERFLIES

6. HOUSE CALL

7. PARADISE BEYOND PARADISE—DECLARATION OF PRINCIPLES

8. THE MIDNIGHT MOVIE

9. MR. SHERWOOD'S LOGISTICS DIARY

10. THE VIEWING

11. INTERNAL AFFAIRS VIDEO #993

12. LAST WISHES

13. HERBERT HORATIO BLACKWELL: THE UNTOLD STORY—FROM THE HIDDEN AUTHORIZED SCREENPLAY NOTES OF GODWIN BEELES

14. INTRUDERS

15. THE HEAD OF INTELLIGENCE

16. THE TRUSTEE

17. INTERNAL AFFAIRS DOCUMENT #11874.M.BLANK

18. THE CONTROLLER

19. IN A HOT, DARK GLOVE COMPARTMENT SOMEWHERE OUTSIDE THE RESORT TOWN OF G.

20. THE PRODIGAL SON

21. THE FINAL FLIGHT

About the Author

Newsletter Sign-up

Copyright