by Amy Cross
"No," Cooper replies firmly, slipping his fingers inside the man's lung. "The entire population of the United States did not drop dead and then vanish due to any kind of infection. How the hell could something like that be contained so scrupulously within national borders? There'd have been cases all over the world."
"Then what did kill him?" I ask, glancing down at the man's boots. "He's wearing our gear," I say after a moment. "It's not just similar. It's identical. He must have got this from somewhere."
"There are probably dozens of American agencies that use the same suppliers as us," Cooper replies. "It's just a coincidence."
"Those sure are mounting up, aren't they?" I reply.
"It doesn't mean anything," he continues. "If the American government became aware that something was happening, it stands to reason that they'd have tried to stop it. They probably sent whole haz-mat teams in to see if they could isolate the problem." He pauses. "Obviously they failed. Whatever they were looking for, they either didn't find it, or they couldn't do anything to stop it."
"But we know that there was no chatter prior to the cut-off," I point out. "Everything seemed normal, and then suddenly..." I take a deep breath, thinking back to the first few hours of the incident. It was as if someone just flicked a switch and all communications with the United States just stopped dead; it was almost like someone just scooped everyone up and spirited them away to some new place where we can't find them. "I guess maybe there might have been something in the background," I continue. "Government agencies could have been discussing the situation."
"We still have to join the dots," Cooper replies, glancing over at Lacey, who's sitting on a ledge on the other side of the ticket hall. "What do you think about her?" he asks after a moment. "I know she's pretty flaky, but do you think she's going to be a problem? We need cool heads, and she seems to be falling apart."
"If we still had contact with the boat," I reply, "I''d say we should send her back. Something about this body really freaked her out. I don't like having her around. She's too unpredictable."
"Some people have never seen a dead body before," he says. "She's seen two in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe you should go and talk to her, see if she's okay. The whole thing with Gretchen might have shaken her up, and then this thing comes floating down. Plus there's the fact that..."
I wait for him to finish. "The fact that what?" I ask.
"Well..." He pauses. "She might be worried that we're not going to get out of here."
"But we are," I reply. "Right?"
He nods, but I can see from the look in his eyes that he's not certain.
Without saying anything, I turn and make my way across the ticket hall. Water is still flowing down the steps, and the storm still seems to be raging above ground. I guess it's no wonder that Lacey's a mess. After all, Cooper and I have both spent time in Africa and the Middle East, on various military attachments, whereas I get the impression that Lacey's been a pen-pusher all her life. I understand why the company chose to send someone to keep an eye on this mission, but I'm sure they could have found someone more suited to this kind of operation.
"You okay?" I ask as I take a seat next to her.
She doesn't reply. Staring straight ahead, she seems lost in thought. I swear to God, sometimes I find myself wondering what's really going on with this woman. She seems so nervous and timid, almost scared, and it truly baffles me that anyone could ever have thought that she'd be a good person to send on this mission. Hell, I'd have second thoughts about sending her out of the office for a cup of coffee.
"If you want to talk about it," I continue, "there's -"
"I'm fine!" she snaps suddenly, with a surprising degree of anger in her eyes as she turns to me. "What's wrong? You think I'm out of my depth? You think I'm holding you back? I'm just here to observe, so I really don't think you can blame your lack of progress on me!"
"No," I say, "I just -"
"Is that butcher still cutting into the body?" she asks, turning to look over at Cooper. "Is that his answer to every situation? Just cut it open and hope he'll find an answer somewhere? How much longer is he going to spend rooting around, messing it all up?"
"He's just trying to understand," I reply, trying to stay calm. "Besides, what else can we do down here?"
"Fuck," she mutters, clearly getting agitated.
"Do you mind if I ask you a question?" I continue.
"Can I stop you?"
"Of course," I say. "I won't ask."
"Go on," she replies, "I know you won't be able to keep it in." She stares at me for a moment. "Well, come on! What's this question that's so important?"
"It's just..." I pause. "Maybe I'm totally wrong," I continue, "but when you heard that name, Jonathan A. Lydecker, you seemed to react as if you knew something."
"Bullshit," she replies.
"So you've never heard of him?"
"Of course not," she says, looking disgusted by the mere mention of the possibility. "Do you seriously think we've traveled thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean, arrived in New York, and bumped into someone I know within twenty-four hours?" She stares at me. "What's wrong with you? Are you stupid? Do you really think something like that could happen?"
"Sorry," I reply, getting to my feet. "I just -"
"No," she says, putting her head in her hands, "I'm sorry. It's me. I shouldn't have said that." She pauses. "Can you just forget the past few minutes? I've been rude. I'm under a lot of stress, and I'm not handling it very well. I tend to get a little snappy when I'm worried, that's all."
"Is this your first time in the field?" I ask.
She looks up at me, and once again there seem to be tears in her eyes. "Not exactly," she says, "but... This really isn't how I expected things to go, you know? I thought we'd come in, do what we need to do, and get out. I thought a smaller team would be faster and more able to get the job done. Instead, we've already lost one person, and maybe the boat's gone, and..." She takes a deep breath, before finally forcing a smile onto her face. "I'm sorry. I know that morale has to stay high. I'll pull myself together and try not to drag you both down."
"Don't worry," I reply, "it's hard on us all. We just -" Hearing a splashing sound nearby, I turn and see that Cooper is making his way toward us, holding what looks like some kind of small plastic card. "You found anything?" I ask casually.
As soon as he looks at me, I can see that something's wrong. Cooper isn't the kind of guy who's easily spooked, so whatever the problem might be, it's instantly got me on edge. I can see from the look in his eyes that he's concerned about something.
"What is it?" I ask, trying not to panic. "You found his I.D. card?"
"Not his," he replies, handing the card to me.
"So what if -" I say, before I see the photo on the card. It takes me a moment to realize what I'm looking at, and for a few seconds I can't quite process the information. "You found this on the body?" I ask eventually.
"Zipped into one of the pockets," he replies, his voice tense with concern. "Just the way we keep ours."
"What is it?" Lacey asks nervously.
"It's Gretchen's identity badge," I say, staring down at the Compidome I.D. card in my hands. "This can only mean one thing. This Jonathan Lydecker guy is wearing Gretchen's haz-mat suit."
Caroline Jones
Fifteen days ago
"So, um... Let me get this straight. Someone's been impersonating me?"
We're sitting at the kitchen table in Jonathan Lydecker's apartment. It's almost 6am, and the first light of dawn is starting to show through the curtains. So far, Lydecker has been an extremely courteous and helpful host, offering us coffee and listening patiently as the three of us try to explain, as best we can, what's been happening to us. From the look in his eyes, it's clear that he has no idea what we're talking about, but I still feel that we have to keep digging. Even if he doesn't realize it, Lydecker - or at least, this version of Lydecker - might know something that can help us.
> "We're not sure," I say, trying to work out how to answer his questions without making us sound insane. "As I already told you, we each have very distinct memories of someone with your name and your appearance, and aspects of your personality, working with us. It's not just a resemblance, John. They looked exactly like you."
"And they all disappeared?" he asks, taking a sip of coffee.
I nod.
"All at the same time?"
"Why don't we move on," Reed says firmly, clearly irritated by the slow pace I've been taking with the conversation so far. "How long do you think you've been married to Emma?"
"We're coming up on our ninth anniversary next month," he replies disarmingly, albeit with a hint of grit. "And I don't think it. I know it."
"And Tommy?"
"Tommy's our son." Now that his family - or at least, the family - have been brought into the conversation, Lydecker seems a little more cautious. I don't blame him, since from his perspective we must be the ones who make no sense. Frankly, it's a miracle that he's let us through his door at all, but fortunately I was able to persuade Reed to hold back on some of his more extreme accusations. Until now, at least.
"Your son," Reed replies, with a look of cool anger in his eyes. "Tommy's your son?"
"Hey, man," Lydecker continues, "I don't want any trouble." He turns to me. "No offense, but your friend here seems a little upset about something. I've got a pretty good radar when it comes to psychopaths, and right now, it's going off. I said I'd help you, but if anything goes down that I'm not comfortable with, I'll have no hesitation in calling the cops."
"That won't be necessary," I reply hastily, before glancing over at Reed. "Will you just let me handle this?" I hiss, as I spot a framed photo of Lydecker and his wife over on the kitchen counter.
"It's getting late," Lydecker says, checking his watch. "Or rather, early. I've been working since ten last night and I need to crash. It's been very nice meeting you guys and I hope you sort out whatever it is that's causing a problem, but I'm just a garage attendant who needs some sleep. You seem like nice enough people. Most of you, anyway. But I can't help, and this is really eating into my downtime. So... if you'll excuse me?"
"We're not finished with you," Reed says firmly.
"This is my home," Lydecker says. "You don't get to decide when we're done here. I'd like you to leave now."
"Wait," Chloe says, before taking another big sip of water. "Do you really remember the past nine years of being married to this woman? Nine years of living in this apartment and having Tommy as your son?"
"Of course!" Lydecker replies. "What kind of a husband and father would I be if I didn't remember my own family?"
"You're not a husband or father," Reed says, looking as if he might tip the table over at any moment. "Not to anyone in this apartment, anyway."
"I think my wife and son might disagree with you there," Lydecker says. "I hope so, anyway."
"Reed, come on," I say, putting a hand on his arm. "You promised- "
"I don't care what I promised!" he replies, pushing my hand away. "This guy's a fucking cuckoo in the nest! I might not be married to Emma anymore, but I was still a part of her life for the best part of a decade, and Tommy's still my son!"
"No!" Lydecker shouts, standing up. "I'm sorry, but I've had enough of this! You come barging up to my front door, demanding help, and then you start throwing wild accusations around all over the place! What the hell do you think gives you the right to intrude like this? A man is entitled to come home and relax without being accosted by three lunatics who start spouting all kinds of insane gibberish! This is -" He stops speaking suddenly as something attracts his attention on the other side of the room.
Turning, I see that the blonde-haired woman is standing by the door, with a young boy a little further back. They both look tired, and more than a little confused to find us sitting here. The boy, in particular, looks scared, and I guess I don't blame him. It's becoming painfully clear that he doesn't recognize Reed, which means that whatever's happening, it's more than just an elaborate performance. These people really, truly don't realize that anything strange is taking place; to them, the three of us must seem like seem completely insane.
"It's okay," Lydecker says, sounding as if he's struggling to contain his irritation, "these people were just leaving."
"Is something wrong?" the woman asks.
"No," Lydecker says. "I'll tell you about it later. It's nothing. Really."
"Emma," Reed says, getting to his feet and walking over to her. "Tommy. I need to talk to you."
"Absolutely not," Lydecker says, standing up and hurrying over to stand between Reed and the other members of his family.
"Why?" Reed asks. "Are you worried he might admit he remembers me?"
"I'm worried you're a goddamn psycho!" Lydecker says firmly, pushing Reed back. "I'm not a violent man, but I won't allow my family to be threatened." Reaching over to a drawer, he pulls out a handgun and aims it directly at Reed. "I've tried asking you nicely, and now I'm going to be more direct. You need to leave my apartment, and you need to leave now, or I'll take whatever measures I deem necessary to protect my family." He pauses. "No offense, but I don't think you're quite right in the head. You come in here, claiming that my family is your family... You're deluded."
"What's going on?" Emma asks.
"Nothing," Lydecker says sharply.
"You don't remember me?" Reed asks.
Emma shakes her head.
"This man is insane," Lydecker continues. "He's come storming in here, making all sorts of ridiculous accusations that don't make any sense at all. On top of that, he seems to have a violent edge to his character, and I'm not sure it was wise of me to let him through the door."
"You want to see a violent edge?" Reed asks. "I'll show you a violent edge if you don't let me talk to my son!"
"Your son?" Emma says, looking confused. "John, what's this guy talking about?"
"I told you," Lydecker replies, "he's insane."
"Is that how you're going to try to explain it all way?" Reed asks. "You're going to claim that I'm nuts?"
"I don't need to claim anything!" Lydecker says. "You're kind of proving it already, just by being here. Have you even listened to yourself? The things you're saying can't possibly be true! These are the ravings of a madman. I don't know what terrible things have happened to you in your life to make you feel like this, but there's no way I'm going to simply hand over my family to you just because you think they're yours"
Behind him, Emma ushers Tommy away, taking him through to one of the back rooms.
"Reed," I say quietly, trying to sound as calm as possible, "we should go."
Reed shakes his head. It's clear from the looks in his eyes that he's close to losing his temper, and although I don't think he's a violent guy at heart, I'm worried that the stress of this situation might push him to do something he'll regret. There seems to be a kind of coiled energy in his body, ready to burst out and attack Lydecker.
"What are you going to do?" I ask. "Take a bullet?"
"This is my family," he replies, staring resolutely at Lydecker.
"Come on, man," Lydecker says, "don't make me do this. I don't want my son to know that I shot a man. Please, just get out of here."
"Not without my son," Reed replies, "and not -"
Before he can finish, we all hear a noise coming from elsewhere in the apartment. After a moment, it becomes clear that the young boy, Tommy, is crying. Emma is trying to comfort him, but the boy's sobs resonate throughout the apartment.
"See what you've done?" Lydecker continues, with the gun still pointed straight at Reed. "I don't want to do this, man, but I will if you don't give me any other choice. You need to walk away, get your head straight, and not bother me or my family any more. You understand? You need to accept that this is all in your head, and you need to go away and reconsider your options." He pauses. "In case you haven't twigged yet, that's a polite way of telling you to go
fuck yourself."
Reed stares at him for a moment. "This isn't over," he says eventually, before turning and walking to the door.
"If he comes back," Lydecker says, looking over at me, "I won't hesitate. I'll be fully within my rights to shoot, and my wife and son will back me up that the guy's a maniac. I don't care if you all think you know me, or some bullshit you've cooked up just 'cause you think you've seen the dandruff on my glasses or whatever. It's bullshit. Whatever the fuck is wrong with that guy, and with the rest of you, don't involve my family, okay? There's three of you, and this gun holds six bullets, so work it out for yourself!"
"Come on," I say, ushering Chloe toward the door. Tommy's still crying in one of the other room, and as we get out into the corridor, I see that Reed has already begun to make his way downstairs. Lydecker pushes the front door shut behind us, and finally I turn to Chloe. "That went well, huh?" I say with a forced smile.
"This is madness," she replies. "I don't know what's happening, but if we don't fix it soon, I'm going to go out of my mind."
"We should go after Reed," I say, starting to walk over to the stairs before I stop and look back at the door to Lydecker's apartment. I might be wrong, but suddenly I'm struck by the overwhelming realization that he was lying. I think Lydecker remembered us, even if Emma and Tommy didn't, and I think he did a very good job of scaring us away.
Dr. Stef Grant
Today
"It's as strong as ever!" Lacey calls out to us from her position at the top of the steps, where she's spent the past half hour staring out at the city. "I don't think it's ever going to end!"
"What do you know?" Cooper says with a smile, as if he's amused by her comments. "Apparently we've encountered the world's first perpetual storm."
"Give her a break," I say quietly. "She's scared."