“What was it like, in the ship?”
She dropped her face; her thumb moved gently over the top of his hand. “Lonely. Strange. But Lucius took care of me.” She looked at him again. “I’m sorry, Peter. You couldn’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to live your life. To be … happy. I heard Caleb call you ‘Dad.’ I’m glad, for both of you.”
“He’s married, you know. His wife is Pim.”
“Pim,” Amy repeated, and smiled.
“They have a son, too. They named him Theo.”
She gently squeezed his hand. “So there’s a life, right there. What else made you happy? I want to know.”
You did,
he thought.
You made me happy. I’ve been with you every night since you were gone. I’ve lived a whole life with you, Amy.
But he could not find the words to say this.
“That night in Iowa,” he began. “That was real, wasn’t it?”
“I’m not sure I even know what real is anymore.”
“I mean, it happened. It wasn’t a dream.”
Amy nodded. “Yes.”
“Why did you come to me?”
Amy’s eyes darted away, as if the memory pained her. “I’m not sure I know. I was confused, the change had happened so fast. Probably I shouldn’t have done it. I was so ashamed of what I was.”
“Why would you think that?”
“I was a monster, Peter.”
“Not to me.”
Their eyes met and held; her hand was warm, though not with fever; it was the warmth of life. A thousand times he’d held it, and yet this was also the first.
“Is Alicia all right?” Amy asked.
“Oh, she’s tougher than that. What do you want me to do with her?”
“I don’t think that’s my decision.”
“It’s not. But I still need to know what you think.”
“This isn’t simple for her. She’s been with him a long time. I think there’s a lot she’s not telling us.”
“Like what?”
Amy thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I can’t tell. She’s very sad. But it’s like there’s a locked box inside her. I can’t get past it.” Their eyes met again. “She needs you to trust her, Peter. I’m one side of her; Fanning’s the other. Between us, there’s you. It’s you she’s really here to see. She needs to know who she is. Not just who she is:
what
she is.”
“So what is she?”
“What she always was. Part of this, part of
us.
You’re her family, Peter. You have been from the start. She needs to know that you still are.”
Peter felt the truth of her words. But knowing something was not the same thing as believing it. That was the hell of it, he thought.
“You’re not going with her,” he said. “I can’t allow it.”
“You may not have a choice about that. Alicia’s right, the city can’t stand indefinitely. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face him.”
“I don’t care. I lost you once. I’m not doing it again.”
Footsteps in the hall: Peter turned as Caleb appeared in the doorway, Pim behind him. For a moment, Peter’s son appeared dumbstruck. A warm light switched on in his eyes.
“It’s really you,” he said.
Amy smiled. “Caleb, I believe I would like to hug you.”
Peter stepped back; Amy rose on her elbows as Caleb leaned over the bed and the two embraced. When at last they parted, they still held one another by the elbows, each beaming into the other’s happy face. Peter understood what he was seeing: the deep bond that Amy and his son shared, forged in the days before Iowa, when Amy had looked after him in the orphanage.
“You look so grown-up,” Caleb said, laughing.
Amy laughed, too. “So do you.”
Caleb turned to his wife, speaking and signing simultaneously. “Amy, this is Pim, my wife. Pim, Amy.”
How do you do, Pim?
Amy signed.
Very well, thank you,
Pim replied.
Amy’s hands were moving with expert speed.
It’s a beautiful name. You’re just as I pictured you.
You, too.
Caleb stared at the two women; only then did it occur to Peter that the exchange he had just witnessed was, technically, impossible.
“Amy,” Caleb said, “how did you
do
that?”
She frowned at her splayed fingers. “Now, I don’t think I know. I suppose the sisters must have taught me.”
“None of them can sign.”
She dropped her hands to her lap and looked up. “Well, somebody must have. How else could I have done it?”
More footsteps; an atmosphere of official briskness accompanied Apgar into the bedroom.
“Mr. President, I’m sorry for the interruption, but I thought I might find you here.” His chin lifted toward the bed. “Pardon me, ma’am. How are you feeling?”
Amy was sitting up now, hands folded in her lap. “Much better, thank you, General.”
He narrowed his attention on Caleb. “Lieutenant, aren’t you supposed to be in your rack?”
“I wasn’t tired, sir.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. And don’t look at your father—he’s not interested.”
Caleb took Amy’s hand and gave it a final squeeze. “Get better, okay?”
“Now, Mr. Jaxon.”
Caleb exchanged a hasty, unreadable sign with Pim and exited the room. “If you’re done here,” Apgar said, “it’s time. People will be waiting.”
Peter turned to Amy. “I better go.”
Amy appeared not to have heard him; her eyes were fixed on Pim’s. The seconds stretched as the two women regarded each other with a crackling intensity, as if engaged in a private, inaudible conversation.
“Amy?”
She startled, breaking the circuit. It seemed to take her a moment to assemble her sense of her surroundings. Then she said, very calmly, “Of course.”
“And you’ll be all right here?” Peter said.
Another smile, but not the same—more of reassurance than something genuine. There was something hollow about it, even forced.
“Perfectly.”
63
“Mirrors,” Chase repeated.
Around the conference table, clockwise from Peter’s left, sat the players, Peter’s war cabinet: Apgar, Henneman, Sara, Michael, Greer.
“It doesn’t have to be a mirror specifically. Anything reflective will work, just as long as they can see themselves.”
Chase took a long breath and folded his hands on the table. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not crazy at all. Thirty years ago, in Las Vegas, Lish and I were running from a pod of three and got cornered in a kitchen. We were out of ammunition, pretty much defenseless. A bunch of pots and pans were hanging from the ceiling. I grabbed one to use as a club, but when I held it out at the first viral, it stopped the bastard cold, like it was hypnotized. And this was just a copper pot. Michael, back me up here.”
“He’s right. I’ve seen it, too.”
Apgar asked Michael, “So what does it do to them? Why does it slow them down?”
“Hard to say. My guess would be some kind of residual memory.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning, they don’t like what they see, because it doesn’t conform to some other aspect of their self-image.” He turned toward Peter. “Do you remember the viral you fought in Tifty’s cage?”
Peter nodded.
“After you killed her, you said something to Tifty. ‘Her name was Emily. Her last memory was kissing a boy.’ How did you know that?”
“It was a long time ago, Michael. I can’t really explain it. She was looking at me, and it just happened.”
“Not just looking. She was
staring.
You both were. People don’t look a viral in the eye when it’s about to rip them in half. The natural impulse is to look away. You didn’t. And just like the mirror, it stopped her flat.” Michael paused, then said, with deeper certainty, “The more I think about this, the more sense it makes. It explains a lot of things. When a person gets taken up, their first impulse is to go home. Dying people feel the same way. Sara, am I right about that?”
She nodded. “It’s true. Sometimes it’s even the last thing people say. ‘I want to go home.’ I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard it.”
“So a viral is a person infected with a virus, strong, superaggressive. But somewhere deep down, they remember who they were. During the transitional phase, let’s say, that memory gets buried, but it doesn’t go away, not completely. It’s just a kernel, but it’s there. Eyes are reflective, just like mirrors. When they see themselves, the memory rises to the surface, and it confuses them. That’s what stops them, a sort of nostalgia. It’s the pain of remembering their human lives and seeing what they’ve become.”
“That’s quite … a theory,” Henneman said.
Michael shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I’m just talking out of my exhaust pipe, and it wouldn’t be the first time. But let me ask you something, Colonel. How old are you?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Sixty? Sixty-three?”
He scowled a little. “I’m fifty-eight, thank you.”
“My mistake. Ever look in a mirror?”
“I try to avoid it.”
“Precisely my point. In your mind, you’re the same person you always were. Hell, between my ears I’m still just a seventeen-year-old kid. But the reality is different, and it’s depressing to look at. I don’t see any twenty-year-olds around this table, so I’m guessing I’m not alone.”
Peter turned toward his chief of staff. “Ford, what do we have that reflects? We’d need to cover the whole gate, and it’s best if we have at least a hundred yards on either side, more if we can do it.”
He thought for a moment. “Galvanized roofing metal could work, I suppose. It’s pretty shiny.”
“How much do we have?”
“A lot of that stuff has moved out to the townships, but we should have enough. We can strip some houses if we come up short.”
“Get engineering on it. We also need to reinforce that gate. Tell them to weld the damn thing shut if they have to. The portal, too.”
Chase frowned. “How will people get out?”
“ ‘Out’ is not the issue right now. For the time being, they won’t.”
“Mr. President, if I may,” Henneman cut in. “Assuming this all works—a big
if,
in my opinion—we still have a couple hundred thousand virals running loose out there. We can’t stay inside the walls forever.”
“I hate to contradict you, Colonel, but that’s exactly what we did in California. First Colony stood for almost a century, with a fraction of the resources. We’re down to just a few thousand people, a sustainable population if we manage it right. Within these walls we have enough arable land for planting and livestock. The river gives us a good continuous source for drinking water and irrigation. With some modification, we can still run oil up from Freeport in smaller loads, and the refinery itself is defensible. With careful rationing, using all of our refined petroleum for the lights, we should be fine for a very long time.”
“And weaponry?”
“Tifty’s bunker can supply us for a while, and probably we can remanufacture more, at least to last for a few more years. After that, we use crossbows, longbows, and incendiaries. We made it work at First Colony. We’ll do it here.”
Silence from around the table; everybody was thinking the same thing, Peter knew
. It comes to this.
“All due respect,” Michael said, “but this is bullshit, and you know it.”
Peter turned toward him.
“So maybe the mirrors slow them down. Fanning is still out there. If what Alicia said is true, the virals we saw last night are just the tip of the spear. He’s holding an entire army in reserve.”
“Let me worry about that.”
“Don’t patronize me. I’ve been thinking about this for twenty years.”
Apgar scowled. “Mr. Fisher, I suggest you stop talking.”
“Why? So he can get us all killed?”
“Michael, I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Peter wasn’t angry; he had expected the man to object. What mattered now was making sure everyone stayed on board. “I know your feelings. You’ve made them very clear. But the situation has evolved.”
“The time line has moved up, that’s all. We’re pissing away our chance sitting around like this. We should be loading buses right now.”
“Maybe it would have worked before. But we start moving people out of here now, there’ll be a riot. This place will come apart. And there’s no way we can move seven hundred people to the isthmus in daylight. Those busses would be caught in the open. They wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“We don’t stand a chance anyway. The
Bergensfjord
is all we have. Lucius, don’t just sit there.”
Greer’s face was calm. “This isn’t our decision. Peter is in charge.”
“I don’t believe what I’m hearing.” Michael looked around the room, then back at Peter. “You’re just too goddamn obstinate to admit you’re beaten.”
“Fisher, that’s enough,” Apgar warned.
Michael turned toward his sister. “Sara, you can’t be buying this. Think about the girls.”
“I am thinking about them. I’m thinking about everybody. I’m with Peter. He’s never steered us wrong.”
“Michael, I need to know you’re with us,” Peter said. “It’s that simple. Yes or no.”
“Okay, no.”
“Then you’re dismissed. The door is that way.”
Peter wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next. For several seconds, Michael looked him dead in the eye. Then, with an angry sigh, he rose from the table.
“Fine. You make it through the night, you let me know. Lucius, are you coming?”
Greer glanced at Peter, eyebrows raised.
“It’s all right,” said Peter. “Somebody needs to look after him.”
The two men departed. Peter cleared his throat and continued: “The important thing is that we get through tonight. I expect every able-bodied person to man those walls, but we’ll need shelters for the rest. Ford?”
Chase rose, crossed to Peter’s desk, and returned with a rolled tube of paper, which he unfurled on the table and weighed down at the corners.
“This is one of the builders’ original schematics. Hardboxes were constructed here”—he pointed—“here, and here. All three date to the early days of the city, and none has been used in decades, not since the Easter Incursion. I don’t imagine they’re in very good shape, but with some reinforcement, we can use them in a pinch.”
“How many people can we fit?” Peter asked.