The Library at Mount Char (35 page)

Read The Library at Mount Char Online

Authors: Scott Hawkins

“Then, when I was circling around the streetlight, I happened to look down. And, y'know, fuck me if there wadn't a full magazine right there in front of the sewer. Not the cleanest I've ever seen, but after I wiped it off on my shirt it worked just fine. I couldn't believe it. It was like magic.”

“No such thing.” Carolyn blew twin columns of smoke out her nostrils.

“Whoa,” Steve said. “I bet I know where it came from. Can I see that?”

Erwin held up the pistol but didn't hand it over.

“Is that the same gun I took when I went out running?” Steve asked. “The one you gave him earlier?”

“It is, yeah,” Carolyn said.

“Then the magazine
you
found must have been the same one
I
dropped when the dogs jumped me.”

“Hey, I bet it is!” Carolyn said. She laughed. “Imagine that!”

Both the men were looking at her now. “So…” Steve said slowly. “You set this whole thing up? Me running yesterday…the dogs…so I would drop the magazine, where Erwin could find it? Right then, when David was grabbing you?”

“Yes.” Carolyn's eyes blazed out like searchlights in the night. “Yes. I did.”

“Why?”

“Well, David was kind of a jerk.”

“No, I mean why go to all that trouble? Couldn't you just—”

“There's no ‘just.' ” She stepped around David's floating body, examining him as she spoke. “Not with one like David. He's too skilled. He was the master of his catalog in all but name. Once I watched him kill a hundred Israeli soldiers—armed men—with that knife of his. That was just an exercise, part of his training. If you didn't take measures to stop it, he could hear your thoughts. There's no one on Earth who could have beaten him in a fair fight. But here, inside the
reissak
—”

“The what?” Erwin said.


Reissak ayrial
,” Steve chimed in. “It's kind of a perimeter-defense system. It's very advanced!”

Erwin gave him a look.

“Nothing to do with microwaves, though. That part was bullshit.”

“You're kind of a smartass, ain't you, kid?”

Steve nodded modestly, scuffing his feet in the dirt like John Wayne talking to the pretty schoolmarm. “Yeah.”

“Well, couldn't you have—”

“Sent in the Army, maybe? A shitload of professionals—big, burly fellows, well trained, with a lot of guns? Mmmmaybe—just maybe—I could figure out a way to get someone like Delta Force involved. Surely that would do it?” She made a show of sniffing the air. The breeze still
carried a hint of burning oil from the crashed helicopters. “Oh, wait…” She laughed again.

“OK,” Erwin said. “But how'd you know I'd be—”

“Do you like that job with Homeland Security? Interesting work, I bet. Right up your alley.”

“Yeah…”

“How'd you end up there?”

“Kind of an accident,” Erwin said. “I went out to lunch and—”

“Ran into an old buddy of yours? Someone you knew in high school? Just a chance thing? A real long shot?”

Erwin didn't answer, only looked at her. Understanding dawned in his eyes.

Steve got it too. “Holy friggin' crap.”

“I've been working on this for a long time,” Carolyn said. “I like to plan. It's something I'm good at. You've seen those guys who do trick shots in pool? Make the cue ball jump, or roll backwards or whatever? This was my trick shot.”

Erwin and Steve looked at each other. After a moment, Erwin nodded. “Ah-ite. If you say so, I guess I believe ya. But why's he all floaty like that?”

“That was me too.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Erwin said. “What I mean is, how?”

“I put him outside of time.”

“Come again?”

“I changed some physical constants inside his body. For him, time isn't passing anymore.” Her throat felt ragged, torn. She coughed, then spat blood into the snow. “David won't fall because, falling, you see, that's a
process
. But if time doesn't pass, there really can't be a process, as such, can there?”

Erwin chewed on this, then filed it away for later consideration. “Yeah, OK. Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why'd you, uh, do it? He woulda been dead in just a second or two, I figure.”

She nodded. “Yes. He would have. That's why.”

“I don't follow.”

“Have you ever died?”

Erwin gave her a look. “Can't say as I have.”

“I have, a couple of times. It's not as bad as you might think. Not nearly bad enough for him.”

“But this is?”

“I'm not sure. But
he
thinks it's worse. That's what matters.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, David died a good bit. It was part of his training. Not as much as Margaret, but enough that he was used to it. A few years ago I overheard the two of them talking about it. By then Margaret didn't care. She'd kill herself if dinner was late. But she said that there was one part that still bothered her. Not the pain—they could deal with pain. Any of us could. But she hated the
realization
.”

Carolyn paused. “Well, no. That's my word, not hers. How did she put it? She said she still felt it, even now, in her stomach and the soles of her feet. When the wound was struck and no one could save her, her body knew. Margaret's died every way you could think of, but she said that part was the worst thing she knew. And David agreed with her.”

“That's where David is now.” She smiled. “That moment when he feels it in his stomach and the soles of his feet.
Wazin nyata
—the moment when the last hope dies. He'll be there forever.”

At the sight of her smile Steve fell back half a step. Even Erwin flinched a little.

Her instinct was to make her expression neutral.
But why? There's no reason to hide. Not anymore
. She looked down at her hand. Her fingertips no longer trembled.

“He pissed you off too, huh?”

“A bit. Yeah. Got a smoke, Steve?”

“Right before you did…whatever…before you froze him, you touched him,” Erwin said. “Inside the wound, like. Why'd you do that?”

Steve handed her a Marlboro, then lit another for himself.

“You saw that, huh? Yeah, I gave him a little shock. Static electricity, right in the parieto-insular cortex.”

“The what?” Steve asked.

“The pain center of his brain,” Erwin said.

“Exactly. It wasn't much—barely more than you'd get from touching a doorknob after you'd rubbed your feet across the carpet. But of course you don't
need
much, not when the anatomy is laid out in front of you like that.”

“They did experiments,” Erwin said. “Cheney's guys, trying to figure out what to do with bin Laden. I heard stories. You give somebody a shock like that, it'd be the sum of—well not just every pain you felt, but every pain you possibly
could
feel. All at once, like.”

“Yes.”

“And then you froze him? In that moment, exactly?” Steve thought about it for a second, then gave a low whistle. “Why?”

Carolyn remembered how the rain ran warm, remembered the salty, coppery taste of Asha's blood. “Because
wazin nyata
isn't enough. Not for him. This, though…I'm pretty sure that it's the worst thing that ever happened to anyone, anywhere. Ever. I think it's the worst thing that
can
happen, the theoretical upper limit of suffering. Despair and agony,” she said. “Absolute. Unending.”

“Damn,” Erwin said. “That's some fucked-up shit.”

“Thanks, Erwin. That means a lot, coming from you.” She blew smoke up into the night sky. “I wanted to do it by impaling him on that spear of his, or maybe to nail him to a desk. But I couldn't figure out a way to make that work. This will have to do.” She examined David with a surgeon's eye and a malice that had no bottom. “And I think it will. Yes. It's working already.”

“What is?”

“Look in his eyes and tell me what you see.”

Steve and Erwin leaned in. “They're black,” Steve said. “I mean, not like he got bruised. The whites of his eyes are
black
. And…are they glowing, a little?”

“Yes.” She saw it too. “I thought so, but it could have been the light.” Carolyn spun David to face her.

It was very dark out now—no moon, no stars. The snow that fell on her did not melt. Her brow was in shadow, but when she took a drag from her cigarette, twin reflections blazed orange in the dark pools of her eyes.
“Scream.” She spoke softly, in Pelapi. “Try to scream. If you scream for me, I'll stop.” Smiling now. “If you scream for me, I'll let you go. Going once…going twice…no?”

V

N
ow Steve and Erwin were both giving her looks.
Anyway, David can't hear me
. She let her hand drop. When she spoke next she made an effort to sound normal. “Yeah, that's a good, strong connection. I must have timed it just right.”

Naga sniffed David, then yowled.

“You fed that lion lately?” Erwin asked.

“She'll be fine.” Steve patted Naga on her back. She shoulder-dived against his hip. “She's just a big ol' sweetie. Ain't ya, girl?”

Carolyn smiled and crushed out the Marlboro under her bare foot. “Got another?”

Steve fished out the pack. The two of them lit up. Steve held out the pack to Erwin.

Erwin waved it off. “That shit'll kill ya.” He put in a dip instead.

“You're bleeding,” Steve said. There was real concern in his voice.

She looked down. Blood was dribbling out of the hole in her thigh—it didn't squirt the way it would have if an artery was nicked, but it was bad enough. “Oh, right. That. Steve, could I get you to run and get something for me?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“I need to patch my leg up. Erwin's too. Remember that pile of stuff I left for you in the living room of that white house?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“There's a big canvas bag tied with twine. Get that, some bandages, and as much water as you can carry. Pressure bandages, if there's any left.”

“Will do.” Steve took off.

“Erwin, can I have one of your shoelaces?”

“Er…yeah. If you want.” He took off his Reebok and extracted the lace, then handed it to her. “What do you need it for?”

She tied one end of the lace to David's hairy big toe, and the other to a mailbox. “We've got one more thing to take care of, and I don't want him bobbing off.”

—

C
AROLYN WASN
'
T AS
skilled as Jennifer, but their wounds weren't all that bad. She packed the hole in her foot and leg with a gray powder, then poured water on it. As she worked on Erwin, the powder knitted itself into flesh, pink and new.

They found Margaret just outside the gate, still playing with the president's head.

“You killed David,” Margaret said. She didn't look up. “How could
you
kill David?”

“Not exactly.” Carolyn felt ferocious, triumphant…but she was wary as well. It was hard to tell what went on in Margaret's head. “That would have been too good for him. I found something worse.”

“Worse than the forgotten lands?”

Carolyn's smile was streaked with blood. “Much.”

Margaret looked up, interested for the first time. “Really?” She searched Carolyn's face. “It is
true
. You
did
. You are a horror, then. I did not know.” She smiled. “We are sisters.” Then, to the head, “David said she might be reading outside her catalog, but I didn't beeee-leeeeeeeve him. She seems so
pink
and
mousy
.” She punctuated “pink” and “mousy” by poking the president in his cheeks. The head tried to moan, but it had no air.

Margaret moaned for it, weaving her head back and forth in the night. Then something occurred to her. “Father will be upset.” She made the head poke out its bottom lip.

“Father is gone too. I killed him.”

“He'll be back. He always comes back.”

“Not this time.”

Margaret wavered. She spoke softly. “You have
ended
Father? Ended him
forever
?”

Carolyn thought she saw the faintest, tiniest flicker of expression in Margaret's face. Hope, perhaps? She couldn't tell. “Yes. He's gone.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

“Oh.” Again that little flicker of expression, hard to read. “I believe you.” She looked back down at the head, then back up, as something new occurred to her. “Then you are horror
and
death. Yes?” She looked at Carolyn seriously, waiting for an answer.

Carolyn blinked. “I guess you could put it that way.”

“Then I suppose that makes you my mistress.” She set the president's head on the ground, stood up, and curtsied. “What would you have of me, madam?”

Carolyn didn't know what she had expected, but this wasn't it. “Only one thing.” She looked at Erwin, nodded. Erwin raised his pistol.

“Oh,” Margaret said, bored again. “You are sending me home?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” She paused. “May I ask one thing? Madam? A favor, please?”

Carolyn was in a generous mood. She touched Erwin on the shoulder, spoke in English. “Not yet.” Then, in Pelapi, to Margaret. “Sure. Why not?”

“Do you remember the way David died? The first time?”

“Yeah. But Margaret, I wouldn't—”

“I would like to go home that way. Through the bull. The way David went.”

Carolyn squinted at her, unsure if she had heard right. “Can you say that again?”

“I would like to be roasted in the bull. Father said it would be my final lesson. I believe that I am ready.”

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