Tremor

by Patrick Carman

  “Since the power grid went down we use generators for heat and light, but we try not to overdo it,” Andre said, rubbing his hands against the light chill in the room. “Plenty of gas, but only three generators and no one mechanically inclined enough to fix them if they go down. If we’d been born a hundred years ago, we’d be practically useless. The modern dilemma, no?”

  “Why did Meredith leave?” Dylan asked. Their time together could be cut short for any number of reasons, and he needed to move things forward fast.

  “Right, down to business. Just give me one moment, if you would.”

  Andre knew he had only minutes before Gretchen or Clara or a host of single pulses showed up at his office door. The warden’s office was one of the most secure locations in the entire facility. He tapped a few buttons on the wall next to the entryway, and Dylan heard metal bars sliding and locks locking.

  “They’d need a bomb to get in here, and I’m not even sure that would work.”

  He tapped out a system-wide message on his Tablet and hit SEND:

  I’ve got him in my office. We’re discussing his situation. Leave us alone.

  It didn’t really matter how they chose to respond. If they didn’t believe him, they’d assume Dylan had him imprisoned against his will. Either way, they weren’t going to attempt any kind of rescue mission. Gretchen was too smart for that.

  “I wish I knew why your mother chose to leave,” Andre said, sitting down where the warden used to sit, in a worn leather chair Andre had come to love. The desk seemed more like an aircraft carrier when Dylan sat down on the other side, a vast wooden expanse between the two of them.

  “You’ll have to do better than that,” Dylan said. “Where were you? Let’s start there.”

  “A lonely outpost in the desert with very few souls. But we had our work with Hotspur Chance. It was all that mattered.”

  “Must have been something else, working with the smartest guy in the world.”

  “It was,” Andre said, looking wistfully at the notepad on his desk, a relic from a time when such things were considered useful. “Your mother was one of the last to join us. I picked her up at the airport; can you imagine? She flew in—on an airplane. Seems like a million years ago.”

  A paperweight made of clear glass sat on the desk. Andre touched the smooth surface, imagined the chaos building outside as he sat in a locked room with a second pulse who had the power to end him with a single thought.

  “Maybe what you were working on made her uncomfortable,” Dylan said. “Is that possible?”

  Andre felt cornered by the question and didn’t want to answer it. He’d thought this might be coming though—it was unavoidable.

  “For a long time I thought she left because she’d lost interest in me, and I do think that was part of it. I’m no fool when it comes to love, but I never really knew how she felt. Your mother was difficult to draw out. Not unlike Gretchen, come to think of it. I have a way of choosing the difficult ones.”

  Dylan used his mind to pull the paperweight out from under Andre’s hand, slide it across the expanse of the desk, and land in his hand. It was heavy. Heavy enough to kill with, for sure.

  “What were you working on out there in the middle of nowhere? Meredith told me Hotspur Chance got interested in human biology and genetics. That true?”

  “Of course it’s true. Without him there would be no pulse at all, not the one I have, not the two you have.”

  “Why’d he do it?”

  “Why indeed,” Andre said, standing and going to the wall of books. He pulled out a well-read journal, fanned the pages, stopped. “No problem can be solved by the same consciousness that caused it in the first place. Strange how this warden fellow had the same interest in Einstein as Hotspur Chance himself, don’t you think?”

  He turned to Dylan, like a professor engaging a student. If Andre had all his faculties about him, which was not exactly the case, he would have remembered that it was he himself, not some long-forgotten warden, who had placed the journal there.

  “Hotspur Chance loved Einstein, and do you know why? Because, like Einstein, Hotspur didn’t see anything the same way we did. He was not of the same mind. He understood what was required for our survival in ways we can never fully know.”

  “The States,” Dylan said. “But what’s that got to do with developing or discovering the pulse?”

  “It’s a fine line—developing or discovering—isn’t it? Hotspur did both. He unlocked parts of us that no one else could, because he had to.”

  “Why?”

  Andre wouldn’t answer the question directly. “The first second pulse was Gretchen. Did you know that?”

  Dylan could sense that he was right on the edge of discovering what Andre’s intent was. Meredith had always known the plan was violent, but she’d never been able to uncover any specifics.

  “Gretchen was the one who changed everything,” Andre said. “She gave us something the States alone could not. She gave us power.”

  Andre put back the book, continuing to talk as he did so. “We come to it now, don’t we? If you’re not happy with my answers, you’ll kill me and go back from where you came. Isn’t that right? Like taking an important chess piece off the table, then falling back to plan your next move. I’m very much aware of the simple fact that fathers and sons are enemies as often as not.”

  “Don’t go all Shakespearean on me. I think you want to do something different than what you’re planning. I think you want this all to end peacefully. Maybe together we can make that happen. That’s all I want.”

  Andre flashed the same toothy smile he’d once used on Dylan’s mother when they’d first met. He’d smiled that way at Faith Daniels the day she showed up for her first day at Old Park Hill. It was a smile he hadn’t had much use for in quite a while, and he was glad to break it out for a little practice.

  “And what if my plans don’t align with your plans? What then?”

  “Then we’re at an impasse,” Dylan said. “And I’ll do what I have to do.”

  Andre sat back down behind the giant desk. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but should you choose to kill me, you’ll never leave this room alive. It’s secure. Very secure. You can throw things all you want, but nothing is getting out of this room unless I say so. It’s locked from the inside, and only I know the combination to open it again. There’s no water. You’d be dead in a few days. My side wins in that equation—the only second-pulse threat, neutralized. They can go on without me.

  “It’s not complicated, not really. You and I don’t know each other, so we don’t trust each other. We’d both like to stay alive. I don’t want your mother dead any more than you do—well, maybe you do want her dead, but I don’t. I just don’t want her getting in our way, and she’s done far too much of it lately. So we are at a bit of a stalemate, but one I think can be overcome.”

  “I don’t want to kill you. I just want to know what’s going on. I’ve been lied to my whole life. I have trust issues.”

  “Understood, and very helpful. So I’m going to tell you something now, and it will be up to you after that. Gretchen would not approve, but I’m telling you anyway. Consider it my olive branch.”

  Dylan nodded. It was a tight situation, and Andre was difficult to read. And he was right. If this were a game of chess, Dylan was a more valuable piece than Andre.

  “Hotspur Chance developed an entire plan for the States,” Andre said. “It was very specific. There was no ambiguity whatsoever about what was to be done. In the making of the States his plans were followed, but then the politicians got involved. Not just here, but worldwide. They took control, pushed Chance aside, and started making very big mistakes. These States, specifically the two American States, are not what you think they are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Dylan asked. Andre had his attention.

  “You don’t know a prison when you see one,” Andre answered. “The States are nothing more than that—
comfortable prisons. And these are not prisons that will solve the climate problem. They’ve long since gone away from those plans, because politicians care about only one thing: reelection.”

  Andre leaned back in his chair and let this information sink in.

  “All we want to do is get things back on plan, nothing more. We’re the good guys, Dylan. Unfortunately, getting things back on track will require some persuading. Gretchen, Clara, Wade—they are an elegant solution. You must see that. They are very powerful. They are indestructible. They are, shall we say, persuasive. Hotspur developed the second pulse for this purpose: to persuade. It’s my job to see that it’s carried out.”

  “What about me? I’m a second pulse.”

  Andre shook his head, a cloud of frustration masking his face.

  “I advised him not to teach Meredith how to draw out a second pulse, but he did it anyway. You wouldn’t even know you were a second if Meredith hadn’t meddled where she shouldn’t have. For that matter, there would be no drifters, no first pulses at all outside the ones I control. Her resistance movement should never have come to pass, don’t you see? It’s an abomination, a theft. It’s a betrayal.”

  Dylan knew this part already, but Meredith had a very different view of her actions. For her, she was the only hope of resisting something that could overpower the rest of the world. Once she knew how to find and develop a pulse in certain people, she knew she had to flee. She would have to strike a balance or die trying.

  Andre smiled that big smile of his.

  “That’s going to need to be enough for now. If you’re willing to stay on, do some training, I’ll make sure the rest of the team invites you in. You found us at a very opportune time, really you did. We’re very near a decisive move, and I would love for you to be a part of it.”

  Dylan didn’t trust Andre, not even close, and yet it was complicated. How much did Dylan really know about the resistance he’d been involved in his whole life? There had never been any real information, only Meredith’s insistence that they were on the good side. From Dylan’s vantage point, he couldn’t be sure who was right and who was wrong.

  “Wade and Clara aren’t going to like this,” Dylan said. He needed more information, so he wanted to keep Andre talking.

  “Clara likes you; I think you know that.”

  “It was weird before; it’s weirder now.”

  Andre’s dark brows, which were not quite as thick as Dylan’s but close, furrowed.

  “Good point.”

  Andre had already thought of this, Dylan and Clara having the same father, but it bloomed in his mind once more like a poisonous flower.

  “We can’t tell her, can’t tell anyone. She does well when she can’t have something she wants; it’s a useful distraction. Humor her. So long as Wade doesn’t know you’re my son, he’ll go along. Not happily, but he’ll do as he’s told.”

  “They’re not going to like it either way.”

  “Just do the training; I’ll deal with them. We’ve got something new I think you’ll find interesting. And if you don’t like where this is going, I won’t stop you from leaving.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Andre’s heart appeared to soften, his eyes going a little wider and less authoritative.

  “You’re my son. It’s highly unexpected, but the test doesn’t lie. We’ll talk more. I’ll tell you more. And if at any point you want to leave, fly away and don’t come back. I won’t let anyone follow you.”

  Andre looked at his Tablet, checking the time, and saw that he had a string of messages.

  “They’re scheduled to train in an hour. Let’s keep up appearances, have you stay in the cell as before. I’ll make sure you’re safe and well fed.”

  Andre was harder to read than Dylan had expected. Maybe this was all a front for keeping Dylan off balance and under control. But if he could hang on for a couple of days, hopefully he’d have the information they needed. They could stop the Quinns from whatever they were plotting.

  Dylan would have been wise to consider more carefully the man with whom he was dealing. Andre Quinn was a master of manipulation. Much of what Andre had just said was designed to keep Dylan in line. When the time came, Andre would do the same with Gretchen and the twins: he would twist and turn the facts and events in order to advance the plan. And why not? He’d been thinking like a dictator for as long as he could remember. Dylan was another piece to be played in just the right way, an important piece because he was a second pulse. He would use Dylan carefully and productively. He would play both sides of the situation—his family and his estranged son—to advance the plan.

  It was good to be the king of information, the minister of truth. It was the kind of power Andre liked most of all.

  Andre opened the door to the warden’s chamber and found Wade, Clara, and Gretchen waiting for him. If he hadn’t been standing there as the only single pulse, it might have erupted into World War III the second the door opened. He could see that possibility in Wade’s and Clara’s eyes. But he was vulnerable—they knew this—and it gave him the time he needed to force the issue.

  “Dylan has decided to join our cause. It’s my call, no one else’s. I’ve interrogated him, given him the basics and no more. He has agreed to willingly stay in one of the cells.”

  Wade was thinking: You want him around because he’s your kid.

  Clara was thinking: If Dylan is pulling one over on us, I’ll drop a building on his sorry ass. If not, I could get used to looking into those dark eyes.

  Gretchen was thinking: Andre has finally gone insane.

  “Now we know there are no more second pulses out there to hinder our progress,” Andre said. “Take him to cell block D and bring him something to eat. I’ll check in on him after the training session.”

  “He’s training with us?” Wade’s tone was just shy of yelling. “You can’t be serious.”

  Andre switched topics without batting an eye.

  “I take it we’re all clear outside, as far as you could tell?”

  “Clear, yeah,” Wade said, looking at Andre like What the hell is wrong with you?

  “I didn’t see anything, either,” Clara piped in. “But it’s big out there. The forest goes on for a hundred miles. He could have brought people with him.”

  “I didn’t,” Dylan said.

  Wade was almost willing to out Faith, but it crossed his mind that Dylan might be telling the truth. Maybe Faith hadn’t told him she’d followed him on a suicide mission. Wade liked the idea that Dylan might not know.

  Clara was smart enough to realize that when Andre made up his mind about something there was no point in arguing. He was nothing if not decisive. She leaned in, reached toward Dylan with one of her trim, muscular arms, and smiled mischievously at him.

  “Come on, prisoner of war. I’ll take you to your cell for some personalized interrogation tactics.”

  “Clara!” Gretchen said. “Act your age.”

  “Trust me, Grandma—I am.”

  Wade usually enjoyed a certain amount of giddy pleasure whenever Clara treated Gretchen like a dish towel, but this was even more priceless than normal. Clara was hot for her half brother and didn’t even know it, and that gave Wade a level of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in quite a while. The fact that he knew this and she didn’t was so enjoyable it solidified his resolve. He wouldn’t be telling her or anyone else for as long as possible.

  There was a lot of anger and pent-up frustration boiling over at the door of the warden’s office, but the Quinns were as good at evading confrontation as they were at creating it. Clara grabbed Dylan by the arm and pulled him out of the room, and Gretchen walked into the warden’s office. As soon as Dylan was gone, Gretchen let loose.

  “You can’t seriously believe he’s switched sides? It’s ludicrous!”

  Andre and Gretchen hadn’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately, but he couldn’t do this alone. He needed her, even if he’d long since stopped loving her. Ha
d he ever really loved Gretchen to begin with? Meredith had come back into his mind and his heart in a way that he hadn’t allowed since she’d left. That had been real love and a real heartbreak. He remembered now how it had felt. Whatever this was with Gretchen, it was not the same.

  He stepped closer and put one hand on each of her shoulders. “Gretchen, he’s possibly the dumbest kid I’ve ever met. It’s almost sad, really.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Andre walked around to the other side of his desk, beaming.

  “I’m saying he’s foolish and confused. He’s willingly locked himself in a cage he can’t get out of, and he’s the only second pulse they’ve got. Without Dylan Gilmore, nothing stands in our way. He and Meredith had a falling-out. A big one. Take it for what it is—a stroke of luck.”

  Andre looked at Wade, who was leaning against the railing of the door.

  “We have to make him believe we’re taking him in, so let him train, at least for today. And then we move, sooner than we originally planned. Stick to the story when you’re near him—we’re planning a move in about a month—same as always. And rough him up. Don’t kill him, just hit him hard. Understood?”

  Wade liked the sound of that. He could kill Dylan by accident in a serious training scenario. There was enough concrete standing around to pull it off.

  “Something’s not right,” Gretchen said. “How did he know where we were?”

  “They’ve got drifters. Those guys are like trained hound dogs; we know that. It was probably Clooger. He’s ex-military, hard-core tracker. And that kid they’ve got—Hawk—he might be an Intel. But, Gretchen, it doesn’t matter. Dylan Gilmore is in a cell in a maximum-security prison. And I’ve got some ideas about how Dylan could actually make our plans even more bulletproof. He could really help. Either way, there’s nothing Meredith can do now. We’ve got her ace locked up.”