The Anathema

by Rawlins, Zachary

  “Don’t,” Vivik said, with forced cheerfulness. “I’d rather know. It’s not like any of this is your fault.”

  “Really? Because I’m pretty sure that all of this is my fault. None of this would have happened if I’d been bright enough not to agree to go with them for Spring Break. Now I’m stuck on an island somewhere for three weeks with Emily and Anastasia and Renton and God-knows-who-else, and I’m not even sure why I agreed to go.”

  “Well, what are you going to do?” Vivik repeated softly.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said, hanging his head. “Emily is pretty, after all, and she’s always been nice to me. She's not crazy, and she's human, which turns out to be more important than I thought. Three weeks is a long time, too, and I don’t really know what Eerie thinks about all of this…”

  “Well, I’m sure she’s totally pleased that you are going on vacation with the girl who’s been all over you from day one,” Vivik said, trying for humor and succeeding only in sounding bitter.

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured. At the same time, it’s not as if I owe Eerie something, or I promised her anything. She’s not even really my girlfriend,” Alex said uneasily, “so it isn’t like it would be cheating, exactly. I don’t even know if Eerie would care, honestly.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Vivik snapped, surprising himself. “Of course she is going to care. She wouldn’t have interfered with Emily’s with that whole San Francisco thing if she didn’t care.”

  Alex gave him a long, interrogative look, and then nodded in agreement.

  “You’re probably right. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, or for anything bad to happen to either of them, but I don’t see how I can manage that. I don’t really care whether it makes me an asshole or not – I’m not staying celibate forever. I guess, long story short, I don’t have a fucking clue. I can’t even decide which one comes with more strings attached, at this point.”

  “Are you complaining?” Vivik mocked gently. “Your life is so hard. Poor Alex and his girl problems.”

  Alex looked angry for a moment, but then he laughed it off, and Vivik joined him, more out of relief than anything.

  “Yeah, I suppose I shouldn’t expect much pity, huh?”

  “Not from me,” Vivik said, grinning.

  “That’s right. It would be better for you if I hooked up with Eerie, huh?”

  Vivik shrugged uncomfortably, fighting off the urge to say a dozen different uncharitable, unhelpful things.

  “Not necessarily,” he admitted. “It’s not like Emily reverts to me somehow if you turn her down. Even if she wasn’t pulled from the Academy at that point, she’s never been interested in me as anything other than a friend. Frankly,” Vivik said, smiling to try to mask the pain inherent in the admission, “I’ve seen more of her thanks to her attempts to get close to you than I ever did before. Maybe if you picked Emily you’d do a bad enough job of being her boyfriend that she’d cheat on you with me, for all I know.”

  He meant it as a joke, but Alex just nodded resignedly, as if that scenario was yet another grim possibility for him. While Alex had never been the most upbeat person in the world, since the attack on the Academy, he seemed more inclined to be gloomy, more likely to fall into one of his bad moods and isolate himself from everyone and stop talking. Vivik wasn’t sure why, and he didn’t plan to ask him about it. It wasn’t any of his business, and anyway, he didn’t feel bad for Alex, despite the circumstances. He was still painfully aware that, whatever other problems he might have, Alex could walk up to Emily’s door tonight and he probably wouldn’t be turned away. Whatever else was wrong in Alex’s life, Vivik still would have traded with him for that privilege.

  “How long have Anastasia and Emily been friends, anyway?”

  “I don't remember them not getting along, exactly,” Vivik said, thinking back. “They could be catty with each other, but I never got the feeling that they particularly disliked each other. I guess they started hanging out not long after you showed up.”

  Alex turned away.

  “Yeah, I figured,” he said moodily. “You have no idea how tired I am of hearing that.”

  * * *

  Michael broke up four fights in the afternoon class, two involving Steve. Miraculously, one of them hadn’t even been Steve’s fault. Eventually, he gave up on anything other than running, and they spent the session out on the track. Alex didn’t show, but he didn’t have time to worry about his absence, not today.

  He had six disciplinary sessions in the early afternoon, and he barely made it back for the late conditioning session. He took one look at the surly faces of the class and didn’t even bother with his planned training routine. Instead, he spent two hours running them into the ground, working every kid he could get his hands on until they were exhausted, in the hope that they would be too tired to act out later. He ran with all of them, miles more than his norm. It took his mind off it, at least.

  He hardly ever thought about what it was he was running from.

  * * *

  Mitsuru didn’t have to be so cautious, with Rebecca unresponsive in a hospital bed, but she was anyway, out of long habit. She’d changed into jeans and a black top she thought was cute, and she’d washed her hair and then let it hang down, an unfamiliar, ticklish presence on the back of her shoulders. It wasn’t what she would have chosen to wear, but she couldn’t afford the attention that her little black dress would draw, either. She had excuses planned if anyone stopped her on the way to the upper story of Operations, where he maintained a small apartment, but no one wanted to question anything she did, not now. They just assumed that she knew what she was doing and left it at that, eager to avoid any unnecessary contact with the Audits Department. No one would dare challenge an Auditor.

  No one, of course, but her best friend, whose limp hand she had been holding, sometimes in tears, all afternoon.

  Still, she checked to make sure the hallway was clear before hurrying along it, stopping at a door near the middle and knocking, softly but firmly. She heard him call out sleepily, and then there was a short delay before he opened the door, just a crack, so that all she could see of him was one eye, which widened in surprise at seeing her. Then he opened the door wide and ushered her inside, checking behind her to make sure that no one saw.

  “Mitzi,” he said, reviewing her with obvious concern. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay? It’s really late…”

  “No,” she said firmly. “Nothing is okay. And you know why I’m here.”

  Alistair backed away slowly, retreating to the kitchen where he made an unnecessary production out of opening a bottle of bourbon and pouring a slug for each of them into two thick blue glasses, handing one to her and draining the other in one motion. He was still wearing the worn brown t-shirt and khakis that he had been wearing earlier in the office, and he still smelled like the stale cigarette smoke that permeated Operations. She sipped hers once for politeness sake, then set it aside on a handy counter while he went back for a refill.

  “Mitzi,” he said softly, turning back to face her with a full glass and obvious reluctance. “You know you shouldn’t be here.”

  She felt the tears trying to force their way out before they happened, and turned away so that he wouldn’t see them. She hadn’t cried since the night she’d brought Alex Warner back to the Academy, and that had been out of frustration; but since the attack, since her last conversation with Rebecca, she hadn’t been able to stop herself.

  “I know what I did was wrong, and I was punished,” she said, her voice shaking more than she would have cared for it to. “Does that mean I’m kicked out of your bed forever?”

  She could hear him swear, though it was under his breath. Afraid to open her eyes, she listened to him finish his drink, and the clatter of the glass as he set it down in the sink. She couldn’t hear him as he walked across the room that separated them, and for a long, unhappy moment, she thought that he wouldn’t be able to answer her at all. Then she fel
t his hands at her waist and she melted in relief, leaning back against his chest, pulling his arms tight around her until she couldn’t feel anything else. Eventually, he let her go, and she turned around to face him.

  She could tell by his face that he wanted to say something, but she put her fingers on his lips, hushing him, staring patiently into his eyes. There was only a moment of hesitation, a flash of something that looked a lot like guilt, before he took her hand gently and led her back to the bedroom.

  * * *

  “You are being weird.”

  “That is so not true,” Alex objected. “I was just being normal, right that second, right when you said that. If things are weird now, then it’s your fault for saying weird things.”

  Eerie looked at him skeptically with her dilated eyes.

  “I don’t think so,” she said gravely. “I do that a lot, so I know what that’s like, and this isn’t that. It’s different.”

  “Huh?”

  Eerie sighed and released his hand, stopping in the path and looking at him forlornly.

  “You suck. Stop lying. Just tell me what it is. Is it because you are going away? Because I am going to Central for field study?”

  Alex stopped too, and swore. He couldn’t look at her while he said it.

  “I just keep wondering about that thing with Edward, or whatever it was. You did some shit to me, back there to my protocol, right? And then he said some stuff, and it kinda bugged me,” he said defensively, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.

  “He said some stuff…” Eerie repeated doubtfully, clearly not understanding. Then, slowly, it dawned on her, and her expression changed, to something he hadn’t seen before. “Oh. And it bugged you?”

  “Yeah,” Alex admitted.

  “Why do you care? Why does it matter what happened? We helped each other, and Edward’s gone now, anyway. I never even talked to him when he was… you know. Alive. Why would he know anything about me?”

  Alex looked away, and nodded, not exactly sure what he was agreeing to, or admitting too. The moment the words had left his mouth, he had known that this was a bad, self-punishing idea, and he wished that he hadn’t started at all. Nevertheless, the words seemed like they had been festering inside him for a long time, fermenting in his suspicions, and then, at the worst possible moment, before three weeks of separation and temptation, it all came boiling out of him.

  “It’s just… how did you do that thing? When you made my protocol work so easily. I’ve never been able to do that, myself.”

  “I don’t know,” Eerie said, shrugging and looking away nervously.

  “Okay, but Edward was saying some stuff about… about how you were like him,” Alex said, frustrated, and not sure why.

  “Dead?”

  “No… like, maybe, there was something about you that you weren’t telling me.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Eerie said. She looked hurt, which was much, much worse than her being angry. “You’ve never asked me anything about myself. Is it my fault that you don’t know anything about me? I didn’t think that you were interested.”

  “Oh, fuck, Eerie, that isn’t it all…” Alex said, turning toward her, realizing she was right.

  “Why do I have to explain myself to you, anyway?” Eerie demanded. “You are going on vacation with a girl who likes you. A girl you sit next to in class. A girl you hold hands with. And do I ever give you a hard time about it?”

  “No, no you don’t, and I didn’t mean to…” Alex said, reaching out his hands to try to hold her.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be touching me, Alex,” Eerie said, slapping his hand away. “Since you aren’t sure that you can trust me.”

  “Eerie, please, you have to let me – look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. I wish I hadn’t said anything at all…”

  “How long have you been thinking about this anyway?” Eerie said, abruptly tearful. “Have you been suspicious of me this entire time? Is that why you are always so weird when I try to be nice to you? I hear all the names they call me, you know. All the things they say about me. I didn’t think that you would be like that.”

  Alex tried to object, but she turned away, and he didn’t blame her. She was right, and he knew it, sick to his stomach and sick through his heart, he knew it. He also knew that he had nothing to offer to fix it but it lies and flattery, and that both would fall short. He wasn’t surprised when she started to walk away, or that he didn’t do anything to stop her.

  “Have a nice trip, Alex,” Eerie said, not looking back at him.

  He just stood there, hoping the earth would open up and swallow him, hoping that he could stop his heart from beating just by thinking about it. Nothing of the kind happened. The world remained as before, the girl continued to walk away. He just stood there and watched her go, knowing that if he did nothing, that there would be nothing left between them for him to come back to. Yet all he did was watch her leave.

  * * *

  When Xia felt like this, the only thing to do was clean. He started at the middle of the room, using disinfectant that he made himself. The soap he used left a particular sheen that allowed him to see where he had cleaned already, so he could be precise. He did the floors with a rag, by hand, just to be sure. Then he did the walls. Then he cleaned everything in the kitchen, which was just a half-dozen dishes and a freezer full of bagged, frozen meats and vegetables that he had selected, prepared and vacuum-sealed himself. Then he did the bathroom and the futon he slept on, even though he’d done it the day before. Then he showered, changed clothes, and brushed his teeth.

  It didn’t make him feel all that much better.

  He put out a package of frozen broccoli and a chicken breast, each in its individual wrapper, to thaw, before he boiled and baked them, respectively. He took one look at the finished product, then put it back in the refrigerator, and had a sip from a sealed bottle of water instead.

  Then he went to go change the tape that sealed the cracks in the door.

  * * *

  “Tell me,” Alice suggested playfully, “do you know what your favorite food is?”

  The prisoner looked at her warily, blinking to get rid of the water that kept dripping from his hair into his eyes. He was too out-of-breath to respond immediately, but Alice was feeling generous, so she gave him time.

  “What?”

  His shaky voice belied his gruff tone. Alice’s grin widened another notch.

  “Well, honestly, I’ve forgotten mine,” Alice continued brightly. “I thought you could relate, since you have all those cognitive blocks and anti-interrogation routines restricting your memory. It’s more complicated than you would think. I had a turkey with Swiss the other day, and it was okay, but for all I know, that’s my favorite sandwich, right?”

  Alice stopped while she leaned over to the side, picking up the industrial sized cattle prod that sat next to her chair, moving it slowly enough that the man could watch her double check the batteries, the power, the weight of the thing. His chest heaved in panic. The whole front of his body was soaked.

  “Then the next day, I have roast beef, and I’m like, okay, this has got to be it, right here… it was Robert Fisher, right? Anyway, Robert, I order a roast beef on rye and it’s mind-blowing, and I think maybe I’ve found it, and then that night I go out for Italian food, and it all goes right out the window when I have that pasta with cream sauce and shrimp. It could be that one day I’m going to eat some plain yogurt or whole-wheat crackers or some shit and discover that’s my favorite food. It’s nerve-wracking. What if macaroni and cheese is my favorite food and I keep skipping it in the cafeteria every afternoon? What if I like the donuts with jam inside them best, but pass them up ‘cause they look weird?”

  Robert Fisher’s eyes crept up to the man above him, the man with his hands placed on his neck and one shoulder, almost in a friendly way. He was a hard man, and he looked it, all bulky muscle and obvious bad intentions. Then they returned to Alice Gallow, leaning acros
s the chair back and smiling at him, happy as a cat with a mouse.

  “What the hell are you-?”

  He made it that far and then the man behind him drove his head down, into the bucket that he knelt in front of, cued by the slightest nod from Alice. He struggled and thrashed feebly, but he never managed to dislodge the man’s grip or upend the bucket. Alice started to giggle the moment his head hit the water with a gurgling, choking noise, and the man joined her a moment later.

  “This shit never gets any less funny,” Alice said, leaning over the chair to watch.

  “Are you ever going to ask him any questions?” The man asked, apparently untroubled by his victim’s rather minor struggles. “I’m starting to feel sort of bad for him.”

  Alice snorted.

  “Taking a page out of Alistair’s book, are we, Mark? You telepaths are all alike. Softheaded bleeding-heart pansies. What is the point of having all you mind-readers around if we still have to ask people goddamn questions?”

  They both laughed again.

  “Uh, should I let him up?” Mark asked uncertainly.

  “Is he thinking about anything interesting yet?”

  “Nope,” Mark said, shaking his massive, stubbly head. “Same nursery rhyme he’s been thinking the whole time, same counter-interrogation telepathic routine. Taos did a good job on the memory locks and the cutouts on their people. Quality psychic engineering.”

  Alice swore and looked at the ceiling for a moment.

  “Okay,” she said, sighing as Robert Fisher’s head came back into view, breaching the water with a hideous, shuddering gasp followed by coughing and spitting water. Mark dumped him unceremoniously on the concrete, where he writhed and shuddered.

  “Now, what I was trying to point out is this,” Alice said, leaning close to the wet man, though not so close that his writhing splashed her. “I have forgotten my favorite food. Other things too, but this is the one that bothers me the most, for some reason. Unless luck or research intervenes, I may die never knowing.”