by David Gullen
‘No, listen–’
Josie smoothed back an unruly lock of Benny’s hair. ‘It’s all right, sweetie. Novik knows what he’s doing, you’ve got to learn to trust a little.’
Exasperated, Benny knocked away Josie’s hand. ‘You should rely on logic.’
Novik roared with laughter. ‘Coming from you, Benny, that’s truly hilarious.’
Josie and Marytha joined in. It wasn’t that funny but it was what they needed. Maybe it wasn’t even funny at all. They laughed anyway and the tension of fear broke.
Novik got himself back under control. ‘All right, Benny, here’s some logic – we’ll go at 4am. That’s when people are least alert.’
Novik kept the Lexus in electric drive, his guts a knot of tension as they rolled silently towards the border crossing a mile ahead. The vehicle lights were out and they were on the wrong side of the road. Dense pinewoods covered the slopes on either side.
Novik checked Josie’s seat belt. Lit by the soft amber of the dashboard lights, her face acquired a beauty born of determination. She looked so calm, so self-assured. She was his rock. ‘Josie, you know I–’
She turned quickly and kissed him on the mouth. ‘I know you do, honey.’ She pressed her fingers against his lips, ‘Tell me when we’re in Canada.’
Novik dimmed the dashboard lights. He set the drive train from Economy to High-power, suspension to Track/Sport. The car shifted as the suspension adjusted, ABS disconnected, the twin supercharged engine burbled softly.
Novik’s foot hovered over the accelerator. ‘Ready?’ He saw it in their eyes, Josie beside him, Benny and Marytha in the rear mirror. They were ready.
He floored it.
And they were doing sixty. Seventy. A hundred miles an hour.
The car was all it was meant to be. Magnificent. A hundred and thirty and acceleration still pushed them into their seats.
Up ahead the big curve swept towards them in a broad left. They flew round as if the car was on rails, the border a mere quarter of a mile distant.
Dark forested hills flickered by at one hundred and forty-three miles an hour. Novik’s mind was in a calm and elevated place. Seven seconds and they would be through.
A spotlight hit them. Then the whole valley lit up, arc lights on the hillside blazed down to illuminate the entire road. Soldiers scrambled for position, the turret of the armoured car cranked round. Too slow, Novik instantly knew. This close, the car moved faster than the heavy machine-gun could track.
Three soldiers were down on one knee, assault-rifles raised. A crackle of shots, bullets starred the rear window without penetrating. A running man crashed into the soldiers and they went sprawling.
The border barriers were raised, the gaps between the concrete lane barriers looked narrower than the car.
‘Line her up,’ came Marytha’s steady voice. ‘There’s plenty of room.’
Novik eased off. He lined up the car. They flashed through at a hundred and ten.
Canada.
All four tyres went flat.
Benny shrieked, dashboard graphics flared red, the car began to wallow, threatened to fishtail into a spin. Novik turned into the slide, brought it back under control. Velocity fell away: a hundred – ninety – sixty-five. Forty.
Half a mile ahead the road curved again. Around the bend they would be safe from gunfire. The steering stiffened as the self-repairing tyres re-inflated. They began to accelerate again. Novik flashed Josie a tense smile.
Down through the woods bounded two robo-canines, 30-cal mini-guns mounted on their headless platform bodies.
The tyres were still soft, the steering vague, acceleration sluggish. The robo-canines galloped beside the car, one to each side.
Novik swung the wheel hard right. The robo-canine dodged away, tangled in the median barrier and crashed to the ground.
‘Brake now!’ Benny yelled.
Novik slammed his foot on the brake. The car slewed across the road as the second machine opened fire. Bullets chewed tarmac scant feet ahead of the car.
‘Go,’ Benny flung himself across Marytha. ‘Go, go, go.’
Novik floored the accelerator, swung left then right. The second robo-canine danced awkwardly sideways and fell behind. Tyres fully inflated, the car flew into the wide bend.
Behind them, the robo-canine jogged into the centre of the road, braced its legs and opened fire.
Heavy calibre bullets tore at the flank of the Lexus. The car bucked madly, Josie yelped and jerked, everyone was screaming.
‘Hang on,’ Novik yelled.
Then they were round the curve, into the shadow of the hill, and speeding away.
But Marytha was howling, and Benny was trying to climb into the front seats. Josie was unconscious and soaked in blood.
Novik slammed the car to a screeching, burnt rubber halt.
‘Josie!’ Novik tore at the buckle of her seat belt. The door beside her was a ruin of perforated metal. Josie slid sideways, her head rolled, her eyes looked into a place he could not see. The right side of her body was barely there.
‘Josie.’ Novik clutched her to him and shrieked. ‘Josie!’
- 45 -
Bianca woke to the sound of a single-engined aeroplane. Sunlight filtered through the gaps on the palm screens, she was thirsty and hot, her dreams had been blind and stifling.
Outside, a few villagers gathered on the inner beach to watch the seaplane as it headed to the far side of the atoll. Nobody knew who it was, certainly not the flying doctor, and no one had ordered an air taxi or special supplies.
The craft turned, solar panels on the high wing flashed as it descended to splashdown by one of the far villages.
Tanoata was still missing and most of the village were looking for her. At dawn, Mautake, the young man in front of Bianca in the canoe, had set off across the lagoon to alert the other villages.
Bianca sought out Tekirei and told him about her encounter on the Shadowed Path. Her revelations did not please him.
‘You should not have gone. I asked you not to.’
Bianca did not recall that conversation the same way.
‘You should have stayed with her,’ Tekirei said.
‘Tekirei, be reasonable. She had a knife.’
‘Are you surprised? She sees you as a rival and there you are, prowling round her mother’s sacred grave.’
‘I was not prowling,’ Bianca protested. ‘Is throwing stones and waving knives acceptable behaviour?’
‘Don’t you criticise my daughter,’ Tekirei’s face darkened. ‘I should never have asked you here.’
They walked in silence for half a mile along the shore. Far across the bay the seaplane reappeared, skimming towards them across the lagoon.
Tekirei was right, she should have stayed away. Her privileged world of wealth and deference blinded her to the realities of island life. There was little hope she would fit in, no matter her own feelings of belonging she had to accept it wasn’t working. She and Tekirei were both intelligent and educated, but their assumptions, their differences, were too great. If leaving was the only way to make him happy, that is what she would do.
‘Tekirei, I…’ Bianca discovered it was impossible to say the words.
Tekirei’s face was a mask of misery. ‘Bianca, I’m sorry.’ His hand faltered towards hers. ‘I didn’t mean any of that. I want you to stay.’
Bianca stared at him, barely able to breath. ‘I don’t want to go, either.’
His voice was a whisper: ‘I love you, Bianca.’
‘I love you too.’
Tekirei’s mouth formed a trembling smile. ‘Then it will be all right.’
They embraced for a long moment. Tekirei wiped his eyes. ‘Look, the seaplane is coming here. Perhaps they will help us look for Tanoata.’
Two hundred yards out into the central lagoon the seaplane splashed down, a solar-electric, four-seater, the special hull and wings designed for high-efficiency low-altitude flight, scudding above the waves l
ike an albatross.
The seaplane taxied into the shallows. The pilot, a tall, dark-skinned man in cut-down jeans and a red tee shirt, threw out the anchor then jumped into the shallows and waded towards them.
Tekirei took hold of Bianca’s hand and they went to greet him.
The pilot was broad and muscular, much taller than Tekirei. His straight black hair was contained by a cotton headband, his skin gleamed copper. Two large knives hung from his belt, one on each hip. He smiled politely and held up his hand in greeting.
‘Bianca Hutzenreiter?’
Bianca and Tekirei looked at each other in amazement then burst out laughing.
‘Yes,’ Bianca smiled. ‘How on Earth did you–?’
‘I am called Manalito,’ the stranger said evenly. With a single fluid movement he pulled a knife from his belt and thrust it deep into Tekirei’s chest.
Tekirei staggered under the blow. His mouth hung open. He gave a single guttural cough and toppled backwards onto the white sand.
Bianca stared in disbelief. A minute ago life had swung from emotional agony to a joyful ache. Now it was horror. A flaring light pressed all around, there was a great roaring, rushing noise. Unable to resist, Bianca allowed Manalito to fold her arms behind her back and lash her wrists together.
Manalito gripped her jaw between thumb and forefinger. He lifted her head so she could not avoid his dark eyes. ‘Now you will travel with me,’ he said.
A slight figure erupted from the foliage at the top of the beach and pelted towards them. Dazed, Bianca recognised a naked Tanoata, her body covered in festering welts and scratches.
‘Kill her,’ Tanoata shrieked. ‘You are to kill her. I brought you here. Kill her now.’
The hate in Tanoata’s words struck at Bianca like a club. Overwhelmed, she sank down to the sand.
Tanoata flung herself down beside her father. Tekirei’s eyes swam into a puzzled focus. ‘Daughter–?’ he croaked, and his head lolled.
‘Kill her,’ Tanoata howled at Manalito. ‘Kill her now. Why do you come, yet not obey?’
‘I walk on two legs,’ Manalito told her. ‘I kill who I please.’
Tanoata prostrated herself on the sand. ‘Spirit of rokea, shark lord, I summoned you to do my bidding.’
To Manalito, this made perfect sense. The girl was clearly a witch, but she was inexperienced, and vastly out of her depth. She had summoned death magic, her father was the price, but to bring death did not mean it would be controlled.
‘I do another’s bidding,’ Manalito told her.
Tanoata flew at Manalito with nails and teeth. Manalito stepped back, Tanoata lunged forward. Manalito backhanded her across the face, breaking her jaw. Tanoata pushed herself upright, spat blood and pointed mutely at Bianca.
Bianca’s head whirled. Tekirei was dead, Tanoata a fury. Sprawled on the sand she tried to speak but could not even draw breath. Her nose and mouth filled with the odours of burning. A pitiful wail rose higher and higher, her own shriek of anguish. Bianca’s arms and legs began to twitch and she fell into a hopeless black pit.
3. Happiness
It’s the big aspiration, the vibe you get when you’ve just slugged the ball and your aim is true.
So, and this is the big question – is happiness getting the home run or knowing you’re about to score?
Think about it. Which is better? Which is more satisfying?
Imagine today, the here and now, but you don’t have your job and you’ve lost the car. You’re the guy who used to live next door. Now you live on the streets.
That’s right, you’re one of your own former neighbours and you’ve just dropped off society’s bottom rung into your own personal ground zero. Your skills have been filleted out of the economy by some super-corporation AI-assisted CEO. He’s re-imagined his growth curve so he can deliver tomorrow’s products today, to yesterday’s neighbours. To people who still have incomes, aspirational and lifestyle modalities that bisect his corporate wet-dream of ten more points on his share options.
You’re out of work and starving. Life is shit, but then you find a fifty in the street and blow it on a decent meal.
Or if you prefer, it’s Ethiopia ten thousand years ago and some hunter sweats up to the cave with an antelope over his shoulders.
My point is this: for one night your bellies are full. Life is hard but tonight you’re on top. You laugh, you play, your partner gives you that special look. Tomorrow is another day but right now, RIGHT NOW IN THIS ACTUAL MOMENT, life is good.
There. That’s it. That fleeting moment. True happiness.
And that’s why you can’t have it. Why not? Because you’ve got everything you need, there’s no lack in your life to be satisfied except how to afford the self-store bills for the stuff you just bought, but don’t want in your house. (And that is just so messed up you do not want to get me started.) You think you’ll be happy tomorrow, but we all know tomorrow never comes.
There’s more, but I tell you what – if you’ve stayed with me this far, you can work the rest out for yourself.
– T. Hank Yousomuch
If You’re So Damned Happy Why Did You Buy This Book?
- 46 -
Oscar Gordano was in the Oval office with the President when Gould’s call came through on his private cell. Gordano waved Snarlow to silence as he saw the number on the cell phone’s screen. ‘This is it,’ he mouthed.
‘Oh my God, it’s him.’ Guinevere fanned her face with her hand. ‘Oh my God.’
‘Hey. This is Ozzie.’ Gordano pitched his voice low.
Gould’s voice was cold and disdainful as ever. ‘The offshore work is complete.’
‘All right.’ Gordano’s heart began to pound. ‘Excellent, you know what to do now.’
The encrypted line was so quiet Gordano felt like he was holding something vast and hollow to his ear.
‘Yes,’ Gould said eventually. ‘We know what comes next.’
‘Don’t forget the sequence. Palfinger first, then–’
‘Shut up with the names,’ Gould said.
‘It’s all right,’ Gordano gabbled. ‘This line is totally secure. FedMesh quantum cryptography, quasi-infinite bit length encryption keys and sub-millisecond key persistence. We can talk about whatever we want, anything at all.’ He laughed at the idea. ‘Do you want to know who was on the grassy knoll?’
‘You moron, nothing is secure,’ Gould said and hung up.
Guinevere mouthed questions at Gordano. He gave her his lopsided cheeky campaign smile and a thumbs-up, and spoke into the dead line: ‘Oh, that’s great. Fantastic news. We can expect confirmation in twenty four hours.’
Guinevere waved her hand. ‘Ask him if–’
Gordano held up his hand for silence. ‘Of course it’s a great plan,’ he winked at Guinevere. ‘Who do you think came up with it?’
‘Ask him to make sure Palfinger is removed first,’ Guinevere said.
‘Hold on, you heard that?’ Gordano pretended to listen. ‘The father, then the daughter. Absolutely.’ Sweating, Gordano slid the phone in his pocket. ‘He heard you,’ he said. ‘It’s happening.’
‘Ozzie, are you all right?’
‘Yes, ma’am, I’m in complete control.’
Guinevere Snarlow studied him intently then burst out laughing. ‘Oscar Gordano, you absolute rascal. I never know when you’re being honest with me or just teasing.’
‘It’s this life we lead, Guinevere. We’re forced to dissemble, to pretend, to have fake friends and yes, sometimes we have to lie. That’s the price of politics, the price we have to pay to serve our nation.’ Gordano stepped towards her, his eyes twinkling. ‘We’re about to make our country great again. I’m nervous, I’m excited like being on a first date. I’ve got a lot of spare energy right now.’ He perched a buttock on the edge of her desk. ‘How about you?’
Guinevere’s hand went to her throat. When it came to sex all she could think of was Lobotnov’s thick veined cock wagging between his le
gs. Improbable as it sounded, the balding economist had been an expert fuckmeister, his organ velvety smooth and gorgeously thick. Instinctively she knew Gordano’s insecurity would make him a selfish, vindictive lover.
Guinevere walked smartly round the desk. ‘I think we should celebrate.’ She activated the intercom. ‘Champagne, please.’ Out of the corner of her eye she registered Gordano’s disappointment with satisfaction.
‘Anything else, ma’am?’ a tinny voice replied immediately.
‘No. Wait, yes, I want a burger.’ Guinevere snapped her fingers at Gordano. ‘You want a burger?’
‘Sure,’ Gordano said.
‘Two burgers, rare. Cheese and gherkins, no mayo.’
‘Any fries with that, ma’am?’
‘No fries.’
‘Actually…’ Gordano raised his hand.
‘What?’
‘I’d like fries.’
‘Hello?’ Guinevere said, ‘Can we have a portion of fries?’ She shrugged apologetically. ‘He’s gone.’
‘It’s all right,’ Gordano said. ‘I’m incipient borderline proto-obese, I should watch the carbs.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Guinevere patted her washboard-flat stomach and they both laughed. During that light-hearted shared moment Gordano looked at her breasts and she studied his eyes.
Gordano thought about another play based around a suggestion they burn some excess calories together. The conversation faltered until the burgers and champagne arrived, served by the narrow-shouldered chinless intern. The cork was already out of the bottle, the bottle in a silver ice bucket. Guinevere poured and lifted her glass. ‘The future.’
‘New beginnings.’
Guinevere devoured her burger in a series of neat, decisive bites. ‘A year from now America will be a different place. We are so going to be re-elected.’
‘Providing Hirsch kicks off about Canada.’
‘Oh, he will. Don’t you worry about that. Andriewiscz has gone north with ten thousand chainsaws.’
‘There’s no risk with that?’