The Immortalists (26 page)

Richard looked at the clock next to the bed for the hundredth time that night and then went back to staring at the dark ceiling: 2:38 a.m.

Carly was lying next to him, though she’d scooted as far to her edge as possible. Her breathing lacked the deep rhythm he’d come to know over the years, suggesting that she too was awake.

They’d barely spoken since he’d told her what he did. After he gave Xander the fake serum, she’d disappeared to start dinner for the men imprisoning them there—for the man who had just put a gun to her head. The kitchen had always been a place of sanctuary for her. Somewhere she could think or just lose herself. When she’d finally returned at ten thirty, she showered and climbed into bed without a word.

He, on the other hand, had spent the day trying to put order to the partially built lab in Xander’s attic. Much of the equipment was still in boxes, and wires still hung uselessly from the walls, but the workers and their tools were nowhere to be found. Now that the old man believed he’d used the only dose of the serum, he’d lost all interest in how it worked or if it could be mass-produced. Richard had assumed that some provision would be made for discovering the secrets of the most valuable—and potentially profitable—product in the world. But on reflection, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Men like Xander pursued money and power not because they needed it but to set themselves apart from the rest of humanity. If everyone lived forever, the value of immortality would be badly diluted.

And so he was allowed to continue to putter around in the lab under the constant scrutiny of the security cameras, but the truth was that his only purpose now was to usher Xander down the path to godhood.

Richard let his head loll to the right and watched the side of his wife’s face in the dim glow of the clock. He was conjuring the courage to touch her, to try one more time to explain, when the phone on the nightstand rang.

A powerful surge of adrenaline was followed by an equally powerful wave of nausea as he grabbed for it.

“Hello?”

“She’s got a rash all over her, and her temperature hit a hundred and three an hour ago,” Burt Seeger said by way of greeting.

Carly leaned into him, though he suspected the physical contact was nothing more than a by-product of her trying to hear.

“Can she keep down fluids?”

“I don’t know; I can’t get any into her. She won’t wake up, Richard. I need to take her to a hospital.”

“No,” he said, knowing that the first thing they’d do would be to give her antibiotics and antivirals that would kill the carrier germs. “No doctors. No hospitals.”

“I know you’re supposed to be some kind of genius, but I’ve watched young guys who could run thirty miles without breaking a sweat get dehydrated and die over the course of a few hours. She’s—”

“
No hospitals
,” Richard said, barely managing to get in enough air speak. It felt like someone was piling weights on his chest. “Do you understand me? Put her in cool water, and when she wakes up give her—”

“I’ve done that, Richard. At the very least, she needs an IV. I—”

“Then get her one.”

“Where? At the 7-Eleven?”

“You’re a resourceful guy.”

“Fuck you,” he said, veering well off their script. “I’m bringing her in. You know how to take care of her.”

“No. You can’t ever bring her here. Ever.”

He half expected the line to be disconnected by the men he knew were listening, but it didn’t happen. Xander had undoubtedly told them to get all the information they could on Susie.

“This is bullshit,” Seeger said, his voice shaking audibly. “You aren’t here watching this. You aren’t the one who’s going to be digging a hole for her in some field when she dies. I’ve already been through this, Richard. I’m not doing it again.”

“You need to—” Richard started, but Seeger cut him off.

“Put Carly on. I want to talk to her. Now.”

He tilted the phone in her direction, unsure what she was going to say.

“You need to do exactly what Richard tells you.”

There was a long silence before Seeger responded. “Fine. She’s your kid.”

The line went dead, and Richard put the handset back in its cradle. When he turned to his wife, she reached up and caressed his cheek.

“I wasn’t ready,” she whispered, tears barely visible in the gloom. “It’s funny, isn’t it? You spend years preparing for it, seeing what the other parents go through, telling yourself that one day something…irreversible will happen. But when the time comes, it doesn’t mean anything.”

His throat had constricted to the point that he didn’t think he could speak, so he just wrapped his arms around her.

“What’s going to happen to her, Richard? Is she going to be all right?”

The truth was that his hope was beginning to fade. Susie just wasn’t strong enough to handle a process this violent. The germ invasion was only the first step. If she managed to get through it, the next step would be surviving the stress of her body going full tilt to repair the damage done by her disease. He couldn’t help comparing the pale, overweight scientist August Mason had been when he disappeared with the tan athlete he’d become when he returned to the world. Had that transformation been necessary to meet physical demands of the treatment?

“I don’t know,” he said so quietly that even he barely heard. “I just don’t know.”

She lay on her side, pulling him down with her. “I suppose she has as good a chance as we do. It would be funny, wouldn’t it? If she lives forever and neither of us make it to forty? I wouldn’t care. She deserves that.”

“We all deserve that.”

A short, bitter laugh escaped her. “Xander will never let us go. He’s going to listen to that call, and he’s going to notice he’s not getting younger. Eventually, he’ll figure out what you’ve done. He’s an evil man, Richard. I truly believe that. But he’s not stupid.”

“Then maybe we should leave.”

Another laugh, just as humorless as the first. “Do you know many how men he has here?”

“No.”

“I do. I feed them. Forty-eight, plus dogs. And there’s not one of them that would give a second thought to killing both of us if Xander gave the order.”

“What if I told you I had a plan?” Richard said. “Something I was working on in the lab today.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to oversell it. The chances of it working are probably somewhere between slim and none.”

“I have to see her again, Richard. Even if it’s just to say goodbye, I have to see her again.”

“Then you’re in?”

She nodded. “I always have been.”

Xander was out of bed and back in his wheelchair, though still reliant on an IV and oxygen bottle. He drooped sideways slightly, one hand seemingly paralyzed and lying palm up on the blanket covering his legs.

Richard approached quietly, unsure if he was asleep. The old man seemed incredibly small in the expanse of the bedroom, as though he were a piece of furniture that had been set out to be discarded.

“I don’t feel younger,” Xander said, opening red-rimmed eyes.

“I wouldn’t expect you to. If anything, the amount of energy this is going to take will probably make you feel worse. Besides, it’s only been two days. The kinds of genetic changes we’re talking about will take time.”

Richard went to a medical cabinet disguised as a wardrobe and took out a syringe. “Have you been feeling abnormally tired?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Xander said, but his voice didn’t carry the weight it had even a week ago. It wouldn’t be long now—a day, a month. And Richard had no doubt that the vindictive bastard was being honest about the orders he’d left.

“How about abnormal joint pain,” Richard said, preparing the syringe. “That’s something else I’d expect to see.”

Xander thought about it. “My knees have been keeping me awake at night. And my back…”

Richard nodded sagely. It was something he’d learned from working with cancer patients: desperation made people highly susceptible to the power of suggestion.

“What’s that?” Xander said, nodding toward the needle.

“I’m just going to take a little blood.”

“What for?”

In truth, he was concerned that Xander would lock him out of the lab, and he couldn’t allow that. Not yet.

“I’m looking for increased cell renewal and hormonal changes—anything that could indicate that the aging process is reversing and give me an idea of how quickly. Because of your physical condition, it makes sense to try to anticipate the process and any problems it might cause you.”

Xander stared at him as he tried to find a useable vein. “How’s your daughter?”

It was a question he was prepared for. In fact, he was surprised it hadn’t come sooner. “She’s ill.”

“Is she going to die?”

The direct wording was obviously calculated to crack Richard’s defenses, but it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Someday, Andreas. Just like the rest of us.”

Richard pretended to gaze at Xander’s blood sample through the microscope, but he was actually concentrating on the clock in his peripheral vision. The second hand had just swept past noon, and if Carly was anything, it was punctual. She’d spent half her life standing by the door waiting impatiently for him and Susie to find shoes and wallets, finish video games and book chapters, or tap in the last line of an e-mail.

She finally entered at nearly one minute past the hour, his lunch neatly arranged on a tray. Roast beef sandwiches and fries, if he correctly remembered the schedule posted next to the kitchen.

She seemed particularly beautiful that day—the dark hair skimming across her forehead, the immaculate chef’s jacket and wool slacks. In truth, she looked like she always did when she was working, but his realization that this could be their last day together amplified everything he loved in her.

She set the tray down on a plywood countertop and gave him her customary peck on the lips. Today, though, he slid his arms inside her open jacket and pulled her close, kissing her again as he slipped a small vial into her back pocket.

“What is it?” she whispered when their lips separated.

“Put it in the stew tonight. But be careful. Use rubber gloves and then throw them away.”

They hadn’t talked about the specifics of his plan—the heightened security had made the risks outweigh the benefits. Even at that moment, he wasn’t certain the people watching couldn’t hear, and he tried to pull away.

“That’s it?” she said clinging to him and shooting a nervous glance at one of the cameras trained on them. “You’re going to drug them?”

“Carly…” he cautioned, making another subtle attempt to pull away. She held fast.

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that standing around all day making their food? It won’t work. The guards eat in shifts. If you drug them, the people who haven’t eaten yet are going to notice everyone passing out.”

“Look, just—” he started, but she cut him off.

“And some don’t eat at all, Richard. They bring their own food. Or they don’t get around to it for hours because of where they’re posted.”

The door to the lab was suddenly thrown open, and one of Xander’s men strode in.

“You both need to get back to work,” he said. “Now.”

Carly had brought the untouched beef stew on the counter next to him forty-five minutes ago. That meant everyone who was going to eat had—the last shift would just be finishing up now.

He’d told her to be at the base of the stairs leading to the half-finished lab at seven sharp, and he started cleaning up his slides—making sure to follow the routine the cameras had grown accustomed to.

He was almost finished when one of the guards assigned to watch him appeared in the doorway. He had his hand clamped around Carly’s upper arm, and she was trying to keep her face passive, but it was clear that she was terrified.

“Xander wants to see you,” he said.

Richard tried to act naturally, smiling with studied weakness as endless worst-case scenarios flickered across his mind. “I…I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I have all those toxins out of my system. Could you tell him that I need a little time? Usually it goes away—”

“Mr. Xander doesn’t wait for people. People wait for him. Now let’s move.”

The man released Carly and started back toward the stairs, motioning for them to follow. She reached out and took Richard’s hand, squeezing it tightly as they obediently followed. What choice did they have?

“How did dinner go?” Richard asked, keeping his tone as light as he could manage.

“Fine,” she replied. “The stew’s just like you wanted.”

When they got to the steep staircase leading to the house’s third floor, the man in front of them stopped short. The passage was narrow and poorly lit, plummeting into shadow before it took a hard right midway through.

“What is it?” Richard said, leaning subtly forward to better see the guard’s enigmatic expression. “Are you all right?”

His thick brow knitted, and he blinked a few times before jerking his head awkwardly in Richard’s direction. “What…what are you asking that for?”

They descended quickly, emerging into a wide hallway that they followed in a direction that Richard had never been. His wife’s hand felt slick in his and he squeezed a little tighter, trying to be reassuring but knowing that the gesture was hollow.

At the end of the hall, the guard threw open a door and took a position next to it, pointing them into an expansive study.

The walls were full of well-dusted books, and an unlit fireplace large enough to walk into soared directly in front of them. A single leather chair made up half a conversation pit, and there were still indentions in the carpet where the matching chair had once been.

The door to their right opened, and Xander rolled in, parking his wheelchair just over those marks as a man Richard didn’t recognize took a place in the chair. He was probably mid thirties, with dark hair and a blue suit that gave the impression of antiseptic fastidiousness.

“This is my new associate, Karl,” Xander said. “Karl, Richard and Carly Draman.”

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said with a light accent that Richard couldn’t quite place. “I must say that Dr. Mason and I were beginning to wonder if this day would ever come.”

Richard stiffened at the mention of Mason and released his wife’s hand, staring intently at Karl as the man casually crossed his legs.

“The answer to the question forming in your mind is yes,” he said. “In fact, I was the very first human to take the therapy. I had just turned eighty-nine at the time.”

Richard glanced at his wife and assumed that her stunned expression was reflected on his own face. The photo of Mason had been staggering, but it was nothing compared to physically standing in front of this man. There were no signs at all that he had once been nearing the edge of human longevity. He could go anywhere, do anything. No one would look twice.

“I’m told that the contents of the vial we recovered actually
was
a complete dose,” Xander said. “Apparently, I should either be dead or it should be beginning to take effect by now. Any thoughts on what could have gone wrong?”

Richard dragged his attention from Karl to face the old man but found himself mute.

“Don’t understand the question, Richard? Let me make it easier. You got out of the car on the way to the hospital after you poisoned yourself. Any chance you left something behind out there?”

A lengthy inventory of lies and diversions ran through Richard’s mind, but all sounded ridiculous, even to him. “I think you already know the answer to that, Andreas.”

“Where is she?” Karl said. “Where is your daughter?”

“I don’t know.”

“And even if we did,” Carly broke in, “we would never tell you.”

“Ah, yes,” he said. “The love of a parent. I’m told that there is no psychological force quite as strong—not even the instinct for one’s own survival. It doesn’t matter though. We have a photograph of the vehicle they’re in from an ATM camera near the pharmacy where Burt Seeger attempted to fill your daughter’s prescriptions. I’d be very surprised if it takes our combined forces more than a few more days to locate them.”

“Why?” Carly said, taking a step toward them before Richard grabbed her arm.

“Why what?” Karl responded.

“Why not just manufacture it? Sell it? You’d make billions.”

“Because it would be the end of society as we know it. I don’t suppose it’s lost on you that the stupider and more useless people are, the more prolifically they breed. Can you imagine every welfare mother, every criminal, every dim or genetically diseased person having access to this? What would stop them from spilling out endless streams of children while the elite have one or two children per century?”

“There could be regulation—”

Xander laughed more loudly than Richard thought possible. He had lost the starring role in this particular drama and obviously wanted it back.

“Regulation? You think the government’s going to tell anybody they can’t have this? That they can’t have as many children as they want? Hell no. They’re going to hand it out to everyone, and they’re going to use it to consolidate their power. Can you imagine? The same entrenched politician elected over and over again for centuries?” He pointed to Richard. “And your field wouldn’t fare any better. A bunch of tenured old professors who ran out of ideas eighty years ago locked into their positions and preventing the rise of anything that shakes tradition.”

“He’s exactly right,” Karl said calmly. “You’d have tens of millions of people psychologically unprepared for this step in human evolution, living mundane lives, doing tedious jobs, watching television, having children. Forever. Not out of any sense of purpose or an effort to make a contribution, but because they’re afraid to die.”

“And you’re not?” Richard said.

He shrugged. “The practical problems with immortality are far greater than you can imagine. The beneficiaries of this therapy must be extremely intelligent, flexible—”

“So a bunch of rich, arrogant murderers like you?” Carly said. “What about Mother Teresa? Or Picasso? Why do
you
get to choose?”

“Someone has to,” Xander said.

“But not you,” Carly pointed out. “You weren’t good enough.
They
didn’t choose you. We did.”

“Not entirely true,” Karl interjected. “Andreas’s health is poorer than we would normally accept.”

“The therapy could kill him,” Richard said to no one in particular, thinking of his daughter fighting for her life in the back of Seeger’s RV.

“It’s quite possible,” Karl said. “Likely, even.”

“I thought people might become twisted if they lived forever,” Carly said. “But I was wrong. You start out that way.”

Richard actually let out a short laugh.

“You think this is funny?” Xander said, obviously expecting more groveling and terror than he was getting.

“I’ve never heard so much bullshit in my life,” Richard said. “Don’t give me all this crap about the fabric of society. You don’t give a rat’s ass about contributing—all you want to do is spend the next five hundred years hoarding wealth and power. If I were choosing,
you
would be the ones excluded. I’d rather have ten welfare mothers than either one of you.”

“Then it’s fortunate it isn’t up to you, isn’t it?” Karl said.

Xander had clearly heard enough, and he hit a button on his wheelchair. A muffled buzz drifted in through the closed door behind them. “You shouldn’t have turned on me, Richard. You didn’t just kill yourself—you killed your wife and daughter.”

“Nice try, Andreas, but I’m not stupid. We were dead anyway.”

The door opened behind them and the guard entered, a gun hanging loosely from his hand.

Xander pointed a bony finger in their direction. “Get rid of them.”