The Deep Zone

by James M. Tabor

  It was, but it was strong and thick with sugar and powdered milk and she thought she had never tasted anything better. She blew over the tea’s surface, drank, felt energy surge through her.

  “This is wonderful. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” He sat close beside her, cross-legged, smiling as she drank and came fully awake. “You slept a long time.”

  “Have you been up long?”

  “Oh, a while. How’s your hand?”

  She flexed it very gently, grimaced. “Sore as hell. But nothing life-threatening. It’ll heal. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m good,” he said. “Really good.”

  She looked at him. “You sound almost cheerful.”

  He heard the surprise in her voice. “Well, we’ve got the moonmilk, we’re alive, we’re on our way out. What’s not to like about that?”

  Not much, except for the fact that three good people are dead, she thought, but she didn’t say it. She knew that in one sense he was correct. The moonmilk was the mission, and they were close to completing it now. That was the most important thing. The three deaths had been horrible, but they might well prevent hundreds of thousands—millions, maybe—of more agonizing deaths. And all of them had come into this thing with their eyes wide open. “You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry, Al. I’m tired. And we’ve lost a lot down here.”

  He nodded gravely. “We have indeed.” Sighed, looked away, then back at her. “I’ve got some MREs ready to heat up over at the kitchen,” he said. “Scrambled eggs and bacon. Are you hungry?”

  She was. “I’ll be right over. Give me a minute.”

  “Sure.”

  He moved off. She shucked out of the bag, pulled on her suit, boots, and helmet, and made her way over to the kitchen. Cahner was already there with the hot MREs. He refilled her mug with steaming black tea, handed her a foil pouch. They stood spooning up the food. The eggs actually tasted like eggs, and the bacon bits were crisp and smoky-flavored. The tea and the warm food began reviving her. She was about to thank Cahner for making breakfast when he bent down to retrieve something from his pack.

  It was Bowman’s red flask of rum. She watched, surprised, as he unscrewed the top and poured a healthy dollop into his own mug. He started to add rum to her tea, but she put her hand over the mug to stop him.

  “That’s Bowman’s,” she called to him. “How did you get it?”

  “I took it from his pack before we left this camp the last time.” He shrugged. “I mean, it’s not as if he was going to need it anymore.”

  That was obviously true, but the matter-of-fact way Cahner said it bothered her.

  “Really, you should have some,” Cahner persisted. “I don’t think he would have wanted it to go to waste. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying ourselves a little bit now, is there?”

  “We’re a long way from being finished with this mission.” Despite herself, Hallie’s voice was taking on an edge. “It’s way too early to celebrate.”

  Cahner regarded her neutrally, then drank again and set the mug down. He took a few steps closer, until they were standing at arm’s length. “You’re not often wrong, Hallie, but this time you are. It’s not too early to celebrate at all.”

  He opened his arms wide, signaling that he was going to give her a hug. What the hell, she thought. He’s done his part. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re right, Al. We do have reason to feel good.”

  She started to disengage, but his arms remained around her. Okay, I get that you’re happy. She leaned her head back to speak, and, to her astonishment, he kissed her on the lips. His helmet hit hers and knocked it off. She put her arms on his shoulders and pushed, but he pressed his mouth against hers more tightly, scratching her with his rough stubble of a beard. She felt his right hand settle onto her breast, cupping it, rubbing with his thumb.

  “Al!” She shoved with all her strength and peeled him off her. She could not have been more astonished. In all their time together at BARDA, she had not seen him give her so much as a suggestive glance. What the hell was the matter with him? And then she remembered: People change in caves.

  She moved back to put space between them. Before she could speak, he said, “I like you, Hallie. Very, very much. I always have.”

  “I like you, too. You once said you were glad to have a friend you could trust. That goes for me, too. But that’s as far as it goes.”

  For a moment she thought that he was going to come at her again, but he stood where he was, holding her gaze, apparently pondering some kind of decision. She thought, If he loses it down here, we’re in trouble. Her biggest concern was not for herself, but for the moonmilk. They had to get it to the surface, no matter what it took. She would not let anything come between her and that end. Not fatigue, nor danger, nor the others’ deaths, even Bowman’s—and not Al Cahner.

  “Where to begin?” Cahner said.

  “What?” She had no idea what he meant.

  “Okay. I think it’s time for straight talk. I know how you looked at me back in the lab, Hallie. I wanted to return those looks more than I can tell you. But I just couldn’t.”

  She had once stood on a steep snow slope on Denali and in the moment just before it avalanched the world had shivered. That’s what it felt like now.

  “How I looked at you? I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Don’t lie, Hallie. It doesn’t become you. And it is not necessary anymore.”

  “I thought of you as a good friend. With affection and trust. But that was all.”

  “You’re lying.” He spat out the word, and it was the first time she had ever seen him really angry. His face reddened and his features contracted. “Why are you doing this? Don’t you remember our lunches together? All the things we talked about?”

  She did remember the lunches. Sandwiches and coffee in the grubby little canteen. They had talked about the weather, politics, co-workers, and baseball. Period. Then, suddenly, she understood what was happening and mentally slapped herself for not having figured it out before, but fatigue had dulled her brain. This was not the first time a man had conjured up a fantasy romance with her. Misinterpreting casual remarks, reading too much into smiles and accidental touches, investing meetings and phone calls and emails with imagined meaning.

  She also knew how to dispel such fantasy once and for all.

  “Of course I remember the lunches,” she said. “And our talks. I don’t remember talking about anything romantic. But it doesn’t matter. Perception is reality. So if I gave you the wrong impression, or misled you in any way, even unintentionally, I apologize. It was certainly not my intention. I thought of you as my friend, and just that. Still do, in fact.”

  As she’d been speaking, he had been moving toward her. Slowly, not threateningly, listening carefully to her words. She was about to hold up her hands when he stopped a couple of feet away from her. He nodded at the rum-laced cups of tea. His expression had changed, leaving the kind of pained sadness she had seen on the faces of people at funerals. Sadness mixed with anger.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to have a drink with me, Hallie?”

  “I already said no. Now let’s put this behind us and get going.”

  “I am sorry, Hallie,” he said. “I really, truly am.”

  His right hand came up from beside his thigh, holding a small black flashlight. Except that it was not a flashlight. She heard a crack like a live wire arcing, saw a sparking blue flash. Something bit her in the neck, like cobra’s fangs lancing her flesh, and suddenly a million wasps were stinging her all at one time, inside and out, her whole body erupting with more pain than she had thought could exist in any world, enough pain to kill her many times over. Explosions of light seared her brain. She tried to scream, but her muscles were frozen.

  And then she was gone.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THE FIRST THING HALLIE HEARD WAS THE MELODY OF “SWEET Caroline.” Cahner was bent over his pack, putting in odds an
d ends, whistling cheerfully all the while.

  Her whole body hurt. She understood that Cahner had used a Taser on her. He must have been carrying it the whole time. Everybody changes in caves. She had known that coming in. She had seen it before, seen cavers panic, lose heart, even attack teammates, becoming so deranged that their partners had to tie them up with climbing rope. But Cahner had been carrying a Taser. That implied premeditation.

  Hallie was lying on her back, on top of her bound hands, an uncomfortable position. When she rolled to one side, the pain was such that she made a small, involuntary scream. Coming fully awake, she felt like someone had beaten her all over. There was an unpleasant, coppery taste in her mouth, and it was painful to swallow. From the smell, she could tell that she had vomited at some point. She was shivering from the cold. How long had she been out?

  “Finally waking up?” Cahner’s voice was pleasant, but not like before. “You slept longer than I’d expected. But I think I had that thing set a bit too high. Live and learn.”

  She started to speak, found her throat muscles paralyzed. Swallowed, coughed, spit bile, tried again. “Al. Why are you doing this? You have to let me go.”

  He looked up from his packing chores, and now his voice was not so pleasant. “You’re quite wrong about that. I don’t have to let you go. In fact, from now on there will not be one thing in the world that I will ever have to do.”

  It was hard enough to think through the shock-induced fog in her brain. Now Cahner seemed determined to speak in riddles. She forced herself to focus, and the effort made her face and head hurt. “Why do you have me tied up? We’re partners, for Christ’s sake.”

  “We were partners. I had honestly thought there was a future for us. Hoped and prayed there was. With this thing, the life we could have made together—you cannot imagine.”

  “What thing? I don’t understand you, Al.”

  “Such a life it could have been. But it isn’t what you want. I understand, really I do. Beautiful young woman, plain old man. Is my heart broken? Of course.” His voice turned colder. “But broken hearts mend, don’t they? And ten million dollars can do a lot of mending, believe me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Despite the pain, she struggled to a sitting position, leaning against a boulder.

  “I’m talking about the money I will be paid when I give them the moonmilk.”

  “What?” If the pain throughout her body had not been so real, Hallie might have assumed she was still dreaming. Finished with the pack, Cahner cinched its top and came over to squat on his heels in front of her. He let his light shine straight into her eyes.

  “Of course. It must have occurred to you at some point how valuable that extremophile would be to certain people.”

  “We have to give it to BARDA. The new antibiotics—”

  “No, that’s not the plan anymore. It never was, actually. We—well, I—will give the moonmilk to my friends, who have already deposited half of my fee. Have you ever seen a bank statement showing a balance of five million dollars? Unbelievable. When I give them the material, they give me the rest.”

  It wasn’t possible. She could not believe that Al Cahner could do such a thing. She had worked with the man every day for two years. He had nearly wept when they threw her out. One of the nicest men she had ever known. All during this expedition he had been steady, kind, ready to help.

  And yet…

  Of course it was possible. Failure warped people in unknowable ways.

  Still, Al Cahner was no psychopathic demon. She knew there were better angels in him. And they could be reasoned with.

  “Al. You can’t do that. Think about what you’re saying.”

  “I have been thinking about it, Hallie. Believe me. For a very long time. Do you know how long I’ve worked for the government?”

  “I think you said once it was almost twenty years.”

  “Nineteen going on twenty, to be exact. Do you know how much money I make?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Eighty-seven thousand, four hundred and seventy-six dollars a year.”

  “I’m not talking about the money.”

  “No, but I am. Any third-year biologist at Merck makes more than that.”

  Hallie’s head hurt, her body hurt, her thoughts kept turning into wisps of fog, but she had to focus. There must be some way to get through to him.

  “It’s never been about the money for people like us, Al. It’s about doing the science. To help those who need it.”

  “The science, yes. Forgive me if I point out that such fine sentiments are easier to entertain in your thirties than in your fifties. Truthfully, Hallie, when I was your age, I said the same kinds of things you did just now.”

  “And I know you still feel them. We spent too much time together for me not to believe that.”

  He inhaled, let out a long breath. There was genuine pain in his voice when he spoke. “I will always cherish that time. I need for you to believe that. Even if it wasn’t exactly… what I thought it was.”

  “I do believe you. And for that very reason, I need for you to tell me exactly what is going on, Al. You owe us that. This is not how friends treat each other.”

  He hesitated, and Hallie could see the struggle. A tormented man, she thought. All those years. Needing so much, having so little. Like a thirst with no way to slake it.

  Finally he said, in a voice that sounded more exhausted than exultant, “I don’t suppose there’s any harm in it now.”

  “In what?”

  “Telling you what was really going on.” He paused, and she watched his expression change again. It was like seeing the tumblers move in a lock after the key had been inserted and turned. “It began not long after you came back with that first sample of moonmilk. Do you remember?”

  “Sort of.”

  “At first it was no big deal. Then your work with moonmilk began to attract a lot of attention.”

  She waited for him to go on.

  “I’d been unhappy with… call it a lack of proper recognition at BARDA, for some time. Did I mention that they passed me over for promotion three times?”

  He had mentioned it fairly often, actually, but she thought better of saying so.

  “At some point I put out feelers to private enterprise. I was thinking about making a move, but in my fifties, I wasn’t the most marketable prospect. I needed something special, a bargaining chip. And then the moonmilk came along.”

  They had been conversing casually for a while now, so Hallie decided to test the water. “These ropes are really hurting my wrists. Do you think you could take them off? Or maybe just loosen them. It’s not like there’s any place for me to run to.”

  “No, I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. We’ve gone beyond such niceties, unfortunately.”

  His answer infuriated her, but she knew it was important not to show it. Build rapport in every way possible. “Okay, I can understand that. I just thought I’d ask.”

  “So the moonmilk was my bargaining chip. Not just for a job, though. A job, they can take away from you. No, this was for a future. Something no one could ever take away.”

  “What did you do, Al?”

  He reddened. At first she thought it was anger. Then, as he spoke, she understood that it was something else: shame. He was almost whispering. “I had to get you out of the way, first. You were leading the research. I needed to get closer to it myself.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I hacked into your home computer and made it send messages to a man from BioChem. Offering to sell certain proprietary information related to moonmilk.”

  “That was you?”

  “I know—amazing, isn’t it? Nobody suspected shy, quirky old Al Cahner.”

  “But… they must have investigated your BioChem connection. Why didn’t they blow your cover?”

  “They couldn’t find him because he didn’t exist. He was an avatar. BioChem, of course, denied everything. They really were as myst
ified as BARDA. Neither side wanted scandal, so they just let it drop. Well, that’s not entirely right. They got rid of you.”

  He hesitated, then went on: “It’s amazing how easy computer systems are to manipulate, Hallie. Pimply high school dropouts compromise Department of Defense computers all the time. It’s no big thing, if you have a certain level of knowledge and sufficient interest.”

  “So you got me fired?” She was still having trouble believing it.

  “Well, technically it was BARDA’s doing, but I maneuvered them into a position where they had no choice. They weren’t very nice about it, were they?”

  “How could you do that?”

  “It wasn’t the easiest decision, believe me, given how I felt about you. Of course, I had no way of knowing we would come together again. When I learned that Barnard was planning this expedition, I made sure that he put me on the team. I would get the moonmilk. And you. Or so I thought.”

  Hallie had been exaggerating before about the discomfort of her bonds, but now they really were becoming painful. She shifted, pushed herself to a standing position, where she could move her arms just enough to relieve some of the pressure.

  “Sit down!” Suddenly he had the Taser in his hand. She lowered herself quickly to the cave floor, the boulder’s rough surface cutting into her back. Cahner said, “Do you know, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you look really afraid, Hallie.”

  “So you got me fired. Thinking you would take over the research work.”

  “Exactly right. And so I did. But watching you do it was one thing. Tackling it myself turned out to be quite another.”

  “It was some of the most complex work I’d ever done.”

  “Indeed. At first I tried using your initial hypothesis. But that turned out to be a dead end, I’m sorry to report. I had to come up with new experimental directions, and I did. Some were more promising than others. But they all failed in the end. Every single one.”

  “And you ran out of moonmilk.”

  “Yes. And Barnard didn’t think I’d showed enough progress to justify another expedition to retrieve more moonmilk. Goddamn him. If he had had the vision to see how close I was, all of this could have been avoided.”