Faller

by Will McIntosh

  Peter turned to Kathleen. “Go on. I can do this myself.”

  She ignored him. Peter didn’t have time to argue. He grabbed the laptop that was interfaced to the singularity and set to work creating the algorithm that would release several hundred joules of energy—enough to kill, but hopefully not bring the building down on top of them.

  “Shouldn’t we seal that big door?” Kathleen asked.

  “No. I can’t send energy through it, and they’ll just blast it open,” Peter said. “Come on, press right up against the containment chamber.”

  The faintest patter came from the hall. Peter typed frantically, stabbing the keys.

  Louder footfalls, someone running, breathless. A series of soft pops, like champagne corks loosed from bottles.

  Harry burst into the room, stumbled toward them. “Peter.” He landed facedown, ten feet from Peter. There were three bullet wounds in his back.

  “Harry,” Peter screamed.

  He and Kathleen dragged Harry close to the containment chamber as soldiers stormed in, automatic rifles raised, pressing close to the walls.

  “Hands on your head,” the soldier closest to the door shouted, his face shaded by the brim of his helmet.

  Tensing, expecting to hear more muffled gunshots any second, Peter reached out to the laptop sitting on the floor beside him, and sent the algorithm to the singularity.

  The soldiers exploded.

  There was no blinding flash, no indication of the energy coursing through the air, only soldiers bursting like water balloons, becoming nothing.

  Peter felt droplets of liquefied warrior strike his face and arms as he turned to Harry. Each of Harry’s breaths brought a sharp squeal. He was bleeding from his mouth, his eyes unfocused.

  “Oh, Jesus, Harry. What did they do?” Peter lifted Harry’s head and slid it into his lap, wondering if he was the real Harry, or one of the duplicates. He hated himself for thinking that it mattered.

  “I’m okay,” Harry said. “Just need one of the doctors to take a look.” He was lying in a pool of blood. Peter could feel it seeping through his jeans.

  Kathleen was on the phone. “No one’s answering. No one’s answering nine-one-one.” It wasn’t surprising, really. The U.S. Government had just been overthrown.

  The sharp squeal of Harry’s breathing went silent as they were carrying him up the steps to the lab, and daylight.

  44

  WHEN FALLER woke, he was falling. Storm was beside him, her hair tied in a tight bun to keep it from snapping in the wind. When she saw he was awake, she handed him a canteen. His hand trembling, he drained what little was in it, then turned away, chose a direction that was relatively private, and relieved himself. His urine, which was a dark yellow, whisked off into the air. Through practice he’d grown adept at avoiding the spray.

  Storm angled in close when he finished. “We’ve passed three worlds so far. All of them are barren. We’re trying to glide back to where we were, but we don’t know which direction that is.”

  Faller nodded. He didn’t have any suggestions. If Melissa, who remembered everything, didn’t know which way to go, he certainly didn’t.

  Now that he’d had a chance to rest, he felt as if he had a better grasp of the situation. This man, Ugo Woolcoff, had murdered him, taken his and everyone else’s past away, forced his hand in causing this apocalypse (as Penny called it), and stolen this thing he had created. The first way he made use of it was to tip a world, killing everyone on it. Then he’d killed Snakebite.

  That was why Peter had used his last lucid moments to draw that map: he was crying out to Faller to get this singularity before Ugo and this General Elba did. Ugo was a lunatic. He’d turned the world into an awful place, and seemed intent on making it even worse.

  If Faller had been able to create this singularity, this thing that could upend worlds, surely he could figure out a way to get it back. Then he would learn how to use it to fix the damage he’d done.

  He took Storm’s hand. “Let’s go talk to Penny.”

  “Hang on.” Storm got her attention, waved her over.

  “How can I get to him?” he asked Penny.

  “Hang on,” Penny said. “I may have saved your life, but if you think I’m going to help you, you’re wrong.”

  “Ugo killed those people. He tried to kill you. Do you think he should be allowed to rule the worlds? And this thing he took—this singularity. Couldn’t we use it to help all of these people who don’t know what’s going on?” It was difficult to speak loud enough to be heard, with the howling wind, and so little strength.

  “You killed people, too. You killed my brothers, my grandparents, so many people I can’t even begin to list them. What makes you qualified to rule the world?”

  “Wait a minute,” Storm said. “Maybe Faller was a bad guy back then, I don’t know. But he isn’t the same person now. You said that yourself. You can trust him. You know you can.”

  Penny considered Storm’s words. “It’s a moot point anyway. Ugo has an army. His world has unlimited power now. Faller would be doing Ugo a favor if he went there.”

  If only he’d understood who Ugo Woolcoff was, back on Snakebite’s world. One way or another, this would have ended there.

  “Can you get Woolcoff to come to us?” Faller asked. “He came once before.”

  Penny shook her head. “He thought you were defenseless, and he was eager to find the singularity. Now he has it, and he knows you’re armed and have allies. If I told him you were still alive, and where you are, he might send another Harrier full of assassins after you, but that’s all.”

  That was the last thing they needed.

  He allowed himself to drift away from Penny and Storm. He needed time alone in the sky to think. There didn’t seem to be many good options. Run and hide seemed their best bet.

  If they knew the assassins were coming they could set up an ambush. They had Snakebite’s shotgun, plus three handguns. But what good would that do? Woolcoff could make more assassins—as many as he wanted.

  It was remarkable, how little difference there was between Faller and these assassins. Penny said they were made from a Peter whose memory had been wiped by the virus as well. If not for what he had seen and done in the past few hundred days, and what they had seen and done, they would all be exactly alike, inside and out.

  “Wait a minute,” Faller said aloud.

  45

  WHEN MELISSA called it a coral reef, his inner word supplier agreed. It was a jagged and twisty wall that formed an L-shape on two sides of them. Lying in the crook of that L gave Faller an uneasy, claustrophobic feel. It was the ideal place for an ambush, though.

  Penny swept her dark hair out of her face with a trembling hand. She was more anxious than he, if that was possible.

  “Remember back on your world, when those assassins had us pinned down in your apartment?”

  “Yeah?” Penny said.

  “Why didn’t you just shoot me and run to them?”

  Penny shook her head vigorously. “I couldn’t shoot a dog, let alone a person. No matter how much I thought they deserved to die. Plus, I didn’t have a gun.”

  “What about the people we’re about to kill?”

  Her eyes clouded. “Don’t make me have second thoughts about this. I’m still not sure which side I should be on. Neither, probably. I should just walk away. But I want to see it end, and you and Storm have me convinced this is our best chance of reaching that point.”

  Penny’s walkie-talkie—a paper-thin steel rectangle, started flashing.

  “They’re coming.” Penny raised her hand, signaling to the others. Faller lay flat on his stomach and feigned unconsciousness. As far as the bad guys knew, he was in the late stages of something called sepsis, and Snakebite and Melissa were dead.

  What seemed a hellishly long time later, Penny called, “Here.” Faller heard the thump of boots. He hoped the coral formations between Faller and his attackers would shield him from their gunfire lo
ng enough for this to work.

  Storm and Melissa opened fire. Faller rose, pistol ready.

  Three Fallers were charging, pistols flashing. Two others had stopped and were firing at Storm and Melissa. Three were already down. Faller kept his head low, not allowing them a clear shot. He squeezed off shots at his duplicates, trying to remember what Snakebite had taught him during the rare peaceful moments they’d had, but all of his shots went wide, or high, or something. Part of the problem was he couldn’t raise his left arm, so he had to shoot one-handed after using two in practice.

  “Jesus. I don’t like this,” Penny cried out as she fired from a few feet away. “I don’t like this.”

  Faller tried aiming lower, fired again. A bloody hole materialized in the chest of one of the look-alikes, and he went down. Faller let out an involuntary grunt of surprise, felt a stinging pain in his own chest. He’d killed someone. He wondered if it would have felt more or less terrible if the person didn’t look like him.

  The final two duplicates were almost on top of them when Penny shot one in the face. His jaw exploded, leaving nothing below his upper teeth.

  Storm and Melissa appeared from behind cover on the far side of the coral canyon.

  “Drop your fucking weapon,” Melissa shouted.

  The survivor’s pistol dropped to the sand. Some of his comrades were writhing in pain on the moonscape; the rest were dead.

  Storm covered the sole survivor as Melissa approached one of the wounded, who raised his hand. “Wait. Please.”

  Melissa shot him, point-blank. Her expression a tight mask, she strode to another wounded Faller. Another shot rang out. Faller wondered how she felt, shooting duplicates of her ex-husband.

  “I still think this is a terrible idea,” Melissa said to Faller as she joined them. “You have no idea what you’re doing. Everyone in Ugo’s stronghold is going to be armed. They have video surveillance, a fleet of Harriers, tanks. You can’t just waltz in there and take the singularity.”

  Faller spread his arms wide, looked out at the darkening sky. “I made it this far. Evidently I’m a resourceful guy, and I have resourceful allies.”

  “I don’t think you understand the extent of the damage you’ve suffered,” Melissa said. “You’re not capable of making an informed decision about this.”

  “We’re disabled, you mean,” Storm said. “Handicapped. Those are the right words, aren’t they?”

  Melissa stared at the sand. “By definition, both of you have suffered severe brain damage.”

  “Based on that map I drew, I believed I could do this even before I suffered the brain damage,” Faller said.

  Melissa closed her eyes, as if trying to be patient. “Listen to me. I remember what happened, I know what’s possible and what’s not. Let’s take the Harrier and run.”

  “Run where?” Faller asked. “You said yourself, this guy has an army and unlimited power. Eventually his soldiers will take control of every world.”

  The prisoner was looking from one of them to the other, trying to figure out what was going on.

  “Penny,” Melissa said, “tell them I’m right.”

  “She’s probably right,” Penny said. “We’ve got transportation now. We could run and hide.”

  “I don’t want to run and hide. I’m sick of running and hiding.”

  Melissa walked off.

  Trying to quell his heart, which was still pounding from the ambush, Faller struggled to his feet. He was still weak, still in pain despite Penny’s painkillers. He hoped he’d feel better in a few days.

  He turned to Penny. “Ready to make the call?”

  Penny took a deep breath, nodded. “Here goes.” She pulled out her walkie-talkie, moved a few paces away.

  “He’s dead. Sandoval is dead.” She listened for a moment, then laughed. “I know. It’s incredible.” A pause as she listened again. “A wonderful day for humanity—that’s a great way to put it, Dr. Woolcoff.”

  Faller looked at the sky. He hated this man with an intensity he hadn’t realized he was capable of.

  “Here’s the thing,” Penny said into the walkie-talkie. “All of the Peters you sent are dead except the one who got Sandoval. He suffered a gunshot wound to the shoulder. I treated him, but it’s going to be a few days before he can fly the Harrier.” Pause. “I know. They put up a hell of a fight. They’re all dead. Yes.” After some additional discussion about how great it was that Faller was dead, Penny signed off.

  “That should buy you three or four days,” Penny said. “Or it buys us a three- or four-day head start, if we run.”

  “I’m not running.” He was done running from this bastard.

  XXIV

  PETER SWEPT equipment off a long lab table, and they laid Harry’s body on it. Three members of their surviving security forces were outside, rifles leveled, sweeping the area.

  “Harry. Oh God, Harry,” Melissa cried out when she saw his body.

  A moment later, another Melissa rushed into the lab and shouted pretty much the same words.

  Harry followed right after her. Looking stunned, dread-soaked, he approached his dead doppelgänger, stopping well shy of the table. “This is too much. I don’t think I can take this.”

  Peter wrapped an arm across his friend’s shoulder, gently turned him away. “Just a little more work to do, then we can rest. We’ll have a movie marathon, eat popcorn till we’re nauseous.”

  “I’m nauseous now.”

  “I know. Me, too.” He patted Harry’s back.

  Peter clutched a table as two more Harrys spilled into the lab, along with three Peters, a Melissa, several Kathleens, all led by Paula wielding a rifle. The sight of them made him reel, made him feel as if he might drop through the floor, or float away, at any minute. He squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath. He needed to hold it together.

  One of the other Peters raised his hands to get people’s attention. “We have to get back to work. Keep pushing; we’re almost there.”

  That was all it took. People hurried away in different directions, others huddled to confer.

  Peter went to join two other Peters.

  “How close are we?” he asked.

  “Three hours.”

  “I hate to toss another complication into this, but I think we should move the singularity out of the lab. Hide it somewhere.” Peter was going to go on, explain that even after they powered the cells, Elba and Ugo might come after the singularity again, maybe using the blackout virus, but there was no need. He was effectively talking to himself.

  “I’ll give you a hand,” one of the other Peters said. They hurried off to rig something to transport the singularity. They’d need a vacuum-sealed chamber, and an electromagnetic field. Then they’d need to think of a hiding place.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Peter spotted three Kathleens at the duplicator, two of them prepping the third for duplication.

  “Kathleen,” Peter called. The two who were still conscious looked over. “How many have you made? It’s enough.”

  “Just a few more,” one of them called back, her finger twirling in the air, air-writing the words she’d just spoken.

  46

  THE LOCALS—SIXTEEN of them by Faller’s count—watched from the edge of the forest. They were getting bolder in their curiosity, maybe realizing that if the people who’d shown up in a functional Harrier meant them harm, they’d already be dead. Still, they kept their distance.

  “Into the wind. Into the wind,” his look-alike (who insisted his name was One-Thirty-one—the number on his shirt) said. “Watch your thrust vector.”

  Faller had allowed his attention to drift, which wasn’t a good idea, even if the Harrier did most of the work itself. One-Thirty-one insisted it was still possible to crash the thing.

  The Harrier landed with a double thump.

  One-Thirty-one nodded, satisfied. “It’s still ugly, but it gets the job done. I think you’re ready.”

  Faller hopped down the steps, feeli
ng self-satisfied. Although One-Thirty-one had been stingy with praise (likely because he thought Faller was the devil), Faller thought he’d picked piloting up pretty quickly. Two days, maybe thirty or forty landings, and he was ready to solo, at least for the short, one-way trip he was planning.

  He was still surprised how quickly One-Thirty-one had agreed to teach him to fly the Harrier in exchange for his life. One-Thirty-one had claimed it was because he disliked Ugo only slightly less than Faller, and hoped they’d find a way to kill each other. Given that he and One-Thirty-one were basically the same person, Faller hoped that was the reason, not simple cowardice.

  “We’re set. He says I’m ready,” Faller announced to Storm and Melissa, who were waiting by the pond. Faller looked to One-Thirty-one, who nodded.

  Melissa rose, pulled the pistol from her belt. “Then let’s get this over with and get going.” Head down, she approached One-Thirty-one.

  One-Thirty-one took a step backward. “Hang on, what are you doing? I did everything you asked.”

  Storm sprang to her feet. “Wait a minute. What are you doing?”

  Melissa kept walking. One-Thirty-one glanced at Faller, looked about to take off for the tree line.

  “Hold on—” Faller said.

  Storm grabbed Melissa’s wrist from behind, yanked her. “Stop.”

  “What?” Melissa said.

  “You’re not planning on shooting that man, are you?”

  “That is my plan, yes.”

  “No you’re not,” Storm said.

  “Let go of my arm,” Melissa said.

  “We had an agreement,” One-Thirty-one said.

  Faller rested a hand on One-Thirty-one’s shoulder. In a low voice he said, “It’s okay.”

  Penny, who must have slipped off to go to the bathroom, appeared from out of the bushes. She paused, took in the confrontation.

  “Put the gun down,” Storm said to Melissa.

  “We’re exactly one world up from Ugo’s. If Ugo’s people found him, he could tell them everything.” Melissa yanked her wrist free. “This is a war. Someone has to be the grown-up.”