Fade to Blue

by Sean Beaudoin

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NIGHT RIDERS AND TOE CUTTERS

  SORT OF LIKE TRON, BUT WITH BETTER EFFECTS

  The Popsicle truck tore down the highway. It was a beautiful day, the sky luminously blue through big panel windows in front while the sun shone in from the sides and rear. I was in the hold. Next to me on the bench seats were Dayna Daynes, Coach Dhushbak, Aaron, Miss Last, Bryce Ballar, and half a dozen squealy blond Kirstys. It was the test group from the newspaper article.

  “Now we’re talking,” Bryce said, slapping me five. “I knew you could do it!”

  “Do what?”

  “It was a test, Gothika. You totally passed!”

  “Whooo!” said the Kirstys, doing an impromptu cheer.

  “We’ve all been through it,” he said. “At some point, you gotta decide if you’re gonna plug in, and you did!” Bryce rubbed his neck, whistling in a low, impressed tone. “I took days just staring at the white cube before I got up the nerve to jack that shit. Bam, right in the arm, huh? Crazy. But you? You know how long you were standing there, trying to decide?”

  “Forever,” Kirsty Templeton laughed.

  “Forever,” Dayna Daynes agreed.

  “But now you’re here,” Bryce said. “We’re all together again.”

  The truck took a long, swerving left, and everyone leaned into it. There was a feeling of jollity and freedom and excitement. There was a sense of incredible relief. Was it true? Had I actually done something good? They all started talking at once, like in a locker room, taking turns going on about the dreams they had, the people they’d been.

  “I ran this crappy karaoke place in Seoul! If I ever hear ‘Sister Ray’ again, I swear I am seriously gonna slit wrist!”

  “I was a chemist in a dog-food factory. All day long I’m like, what do I add to this pile of sawdust to make it taste more like home-cooked gravy?”

  “I was a car salesman. I’m standing there shaking hands, like, hey, you want to put twenty percent down on a new Mercedes StatusSled LE, or should we go old-school and lease a Hummer with the full Esteem Monster package?”

  I laughed and stood up, hanging on to one of the freezers as the truck took another corner. They all seemed so happy. Had we really been going through this together all along?

  “I knew you could do it,” Bryce said again.

  The Kirstys got all excited and started randomly hugging each other, so the guys got up and shook hands and slapped backs.

  “Best student I ever had,” Coach Dhushbak said, giving me a wink. “I’m canceling all your detentions for the rest of the year!”

  Dayna Daynes stepped over, looking ashamed. “Listen, about the way I’ve acted… I didn’t know why I—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said.

  Behind Dayna, Aaron was waiting his turn. “You and me?” He smiled. “When there’s not so many people around? We need to spend some serious time. You feelin’ me, boo?”

  I nodded, turning toward the front. A man in a white lab coat was behind the wheel. He adjusted the rearview mirror and blew me a kiss.

  “Dad?”

  My father pulled the truck off the highway and down an exit ramp, into a cul-de-sac with big yards and nice houses and swing sets. He turned the organ grinder music as loud as it would go, and dozens of children came running after us. Bryce and Coach Dhushbak and the others filed out of the truck and started handing out free ice creams. My father squeezed my hand, in no hurry, opening the freezers and letting anyone take whatever they wanted. The kids cheered. They tore off wrappers and chased one another in circles. They kicked balls and shared Fudgesicles and dripped all over their shirts.

  My father finally turned and stood in front of me. He looked the same, young and serious, with his thick glasses and wavy hair. He took me in his arms and buried his face in my neck. I squeezed him back. We stood that way a long time, until he gently let me go. He kissed me on the forehead and then took my hand, leading me toward a lush field of grass. The sun was beaming. I slipped off my shoes. The grass felt amazing on my toes. All around us were picnic tables and sandboxes and swing sets. Off in a stand of pines was a marble pool surrounded by statuary. We walked toward it. A stone cherub stood on one foot in the center, spitting in a glistening arc. The water looked clean and clear and deep.

  “I knew this day would come,” he said as we sat together, a little smile on his face. “I just had to wait a year. Until we were both ready. Even so, I can hardly believe you’re here.”

  I looked at my lap. He took my hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Soph. I know there’s been so much confusion, so much to doubt. It’s what she did to all of us. But I’m so proud of you. You hung in there. The first test group? Well, let’s just say most of them spend a lot of time sniffing their fingertips and talking to walls. And the second group didn’t fare much better. But you know what? In the end, all our sacrifices will be worth it. Each and every one of us will be treated like heroes. Your friends, the coach, the freckled boy. There will be magazines, talk shows. You want to be on Bloprah? Chatterman? This project is going to change the world. When the Conduit opens, just think what we can bring out! The possibilities are limitless!”

  The thing is, I had been thinking about it. And it scared me to death. Limitless possibility actually seemed like a curse. If you could bring out anything good, you could bring out anything bad. If everyone could be cured of disease, we’d all live to a hundred and fifty and there’d be no room for anyone to live. If we were all suddenly rich, pretty soon there’d be no reason to do anything at all. Whatever you wanted would just come out of the tube. Cars or houses or yachts. We’d all become content and fat. And then they’d bring out a pill to make us skinny. Or a pill to make us think being fat was better, after all. And eventually, people would find a way to fight over the Conduit. Someone would decide they had to be in control, even if you brought out a pill that made no one want to be in control. Once the conveyor belts got rolling, there would have to be trucks and planes and ships to move the stuff around the world. India needs rice. Germany needs leather pants. Australia needs shrimp skewers. And then they’d have to bring out the gas to fuel the planes. And then the pilots to fly them. And then the machines to train the robot pilots, since no one wanted to work anymore. It would all just keep happening over and over again, a solution for every solution, until the whole world was so full of discarded junk there would be nowhere to sit.

  My father was smiling at me, waiting for my response. I could tell he thought I was dreaming of all the things I could have, the new stereos and watches and clothes. I looked away. Near us, a family was picnicking. Two squirrels in a tree shared a shiny acorn. A pair of robins cooed and billed against each other. Maybe I was being too cynical. Maybe there was a way that everything could be figured out. Rules could be decided on, and the whole thing could be made fair. Maybe there was a way for the whole world to be as beautiful and still and warm as it was here, in the grass, right now.

  Yeah, maybe.

  “Do you see now, honey?” My father said. “Do you see why we had to go through what we did? Why it will all be worth it?”

  I didn’t see. I wanted to ask him about the things Rose had shown me. I wanted to ask him about being run over by the truck, and his leaving Trish, and his lying to me. I opened my mouth, but his expression was so open and trusting, I couldn’t do it. It was so nice just to be with him again, sitting in the sun, holding hands. The questions could wait a minute.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “I have something I have to admit.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “After you left, in a way I was almost glad you were gone.”

  My father stared at me.

  “I realize now, your leaving sort of justified my being miserable. I started to think if things were going to go bad, they might as well go really bad, you know? Like I was Joan of Arc or something.”

  “There is no percentage in mediocre suffering,” he said
. “You might as well corner the market.”

  “Exactly,” I smiled, relieved he understood. “Your being gone was such a good excuse, I knew I could be a total screwup, and deep down, no one could blame me.”

  My father nodded and held up a pink ice-cream cone. “Hey, have you tried this flavor? It’s delicious.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want any—”

  Grrrr… erf erf erf!

  Twinkle came tearing across the lawn and jumped onto my lap, licking my face. Her little body trembled with happiness.

  “But wait… how?” I laughed as she bowled me over. We rolled on the grass and I pressed her tightly against my chest, tracing the circle on her belly with my finger.

  “Is that good?” my father asked. “Does that work?”

  Twinkle chewed my knuckle. “Work?”

  He shrugged. His smile was unwavering.

  I looked down at my dog. The color of her hair was a tiny bit different than I remembered. “But I saw her out there. In the vat.”

  “Your trust made this all possible, honey,” my father said.

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Having the courage to work through the confusion,” he said. “Being strong and confident. A new you, a silver lining.”

  I knew my dog was dead. I pushed this Twinkle away, but she thought I was playing a game and jumped on me again. I grabbed her with two hands and tossed her farther. Twinkle let out a yip, and then a little growl. Her big anime eyes looked sad, but I could also see a glint of resentment. She raised a lip and slunk away.

  “Don’t be a party pooper, Soph,” my father said. “Let’s keep it real. You and me just kickin’ it.”

  “Stop speaking in clichés!” I said.

  He looked down at his hands and wiped at the corner of his eye, where a tear dutifully began to fall.

  “I want to know where Kenny is,” I said.

  “He’ll be here soon, don’t worry.”

  “But I am worried. I’m starting to—”

  My father slapped his hands together. “But enough talking about old times, Soph! Let’s roll up our sleeves and get to work! Let’s open up that Conduit!” His eyes narrowed excitedly. “When we do, there won’t be a Nobel big enough! There won’t be enough grants and awards for them to give us!”

  “What about those people back there?” I said. “In the pool. Those volunteers. When do they get their awards?”

  “Innovation requires sacrifice,” he said.

  I let go of his hand. “It’s not a sacrifice when people don’t know they’re giving something up. I didn’t know. O.S. didn’t know. Were you ready to sacrifice us, too?”

  My father rubbed beneath his glasses. “You’re not listening.”

  “And what about the senior class? I saw the paperwork. The school lied to them. The lab tricked them. You’ve injected them all.”

  “No! That was her idea,” he said disgustedly. “Prepping them as the next test group? I was completely against it.”

  “Yeah, and what about her?” I said. “You and her?”

  He stood up, trying to get a grip on himself. He was all facade. I could see right through him. He was a little boy who wanted to sit in a corner and play with his gadgets and be told how smart he was.

  “You did something to me,” I said. “Didn’t you?”

  He wrapped his arms around his chest and twirled in a circle three times, like he was trying to make himself dizzy.

  “Answer me,” I said.

  He put his hands over his ears. “I’m never getting out, am I?” he asked, in a singsong voice, over and over, “never, never, never.”

  In the distance, the sun had started to go down. The Popsicle truck turned dark, as if it had begun to rust.

  “What’s happening?”

  My father began to shake. The beautiful green grass below us turned brown. Bryce and Aaron disappeared. The laughing children disappeared. The clouds turned black and the birds began to peck at one other. The squirrels bared their fangs. I could see the Kirstys, across the street in someone’s lawn, joined at the hip like Siamese twins. They had four heads but one torso, just one pair of legs, which ran in circles while they screamed and pulled each other’s hair.

  “The Rumor,” I whispered, but my father was gone. It was suddenly sweaty hot. Everything began to drip thickly, humid and pungent. There was a thrum in the background. It started in my feet and worked up my calves. It itched and ached in turn, clawing. I slapped and rubbed at myself, but it continued along my sides, like marching bees, stinging at random.

  “Stop!”

  I ran toward the pool as my father’s desperation came at me in waves, like cheap cologne. It permeated everything, a high wire of pain arcing from him into me. It was everything, the grass and the dirt and the sky. It seeped into my pores, under my fingernails. It smelled like bad mayonnaise, like hundreds of pig’s tails, like a thousand Sour Whites. His thoughts fell in sheets, numbers raining down in whispered apologies and admissions.

  “Stop!”

  I could hear his voice in my head. Switch places.

  It was tiny and scared. Sophie, switch places with me.

  The sky and the grass began to whirl. I knew the answer to the questions I hadn’t had a chance to ask. It was all about survival. It was all about preservation. He’d run me over again and again, trying to get me to come here. He wanted me to give the comic to The Nurse. He wanted me to jack in. He wanted me to take his place.

  Switch switch switch switch.

  I looked down into the pool. The cherub had cracked and fallen on its side. The water was boiling, tuning pink. Trees were falling all around me. The ground began to open in huge, shearing cracks.

  I stood on the lip and dove in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  KENNY BLUE BLAND

  DON’T MESS WITH THE SPICE

  Oh, man, is Lake okay?”

  Herb waved off my question. “What do you say, young Mr. Spice, that you start by telling me everything you know about all this weirdness Lake was mentioning earlier?”

  “Sure,” I said. His stare was making me nervous. I sat up, making space on the floor for my feet, kicking blenders and tennis balls and melon scoops and visors and electronics manuals and cookie sheets under the couch. I told him about Sophie’s not sleeping. About her dreams. About her fear of ice cream. About The Nurse. It sounded completely dumb, but Herb nodded along.

  “Then, there’s my father and everything. Being gone and so forth? Without any explanation? I’d say that’s the lodestone of weird in our family. Also, there’s the comic.”

  “The comic,” Herb said, licking his lips, not a question. “You brought it with you.”

  I reached in my bag, which was soaked through with sweat. Destruktor-Bot wasn’t there. I pulled out Leatherface and Rayonfoot #42, which was wet to the binding, a Fair-minus or worse. Fumble Carrot #13 was in even rougher shape. The cover disintegrated in my hand. I checked in the bag again. No Bot. No Manny Solo. I dumped it all out onto the couch. There were wrappers and peels and crumpled foil. It was the first time in an entire year I didn’t have Dad’s comic with me.

  “Um? I guess it’s not here.”

  “Predictable,” Herb said, his jaw clenched. “It’s all starting to come together.”

  “What is?”

  “Randomness. Chaos. Random and chaotic weirdness. It comes in cycles.”

  “How so?”

  “Well,” Herb said, leaning back, “me knowing your father and all, for one.”

  “You knew him?”

  “I used to be a guard there, over at ol’ Fade Labs. Actually, I heard tell of you, too. Just some whispers in the hallway. Come to think of it, I don’t know that O.S. stands for Overwhelmingly Studious at all.” Herb grinned. “Little bit lying to me there, huh, Kenneth? Actually, I think O.S. stands for Organic Sample.”

  “Kenneth,” Lake mumbled, “is short for Kenny.”

  “That’s a really strange coincidence,” I s
aid. “That you—”

  “It’s not a coincidence at all,” Herb said, tapping the knife he’d cut my blanket-shirt with on his thigh. Tap tap tap. Tappity tap tap. “Everyone in this town has worked for the lab at one time or another. One way or another. We’re all sort of a big family. Money for the school, money for the library. Money for personal subsidies, hush money, bail, lawsuits. Really, my point is, everyone’s connected, all of us. It is both a philosophy and a reality. Win or lose.”

  “Um, win what?”

  Herb smiled. His mustache twitched.

  The phone rang. Lake wheeled over and picked it up. “Yeah, he’s sitting right here,” she said. “Wearing a blanket.” She replaced the receiver.

  “Tell me about my father,” I whispered.

  Lake lit two cigarettes at the same time, giving one to Herb. His had lipstick on the filter. Herb took a deep drag, letting the smoke slowly curl from his nose, smudges of red on his bottom lip.

  “Your father was something of an artist himself. Liked to draw pictures and show them to us lowly guards on his lunch break. Maybe give us a little lecture about science. Be the big man, knowing all he knew. Being all he was, and us being all we weren’t. He got some people fired, you know. Being a stickler. Rules this, rules that. Yeah, me and the guys, we got a real kick out of your old man’s pictures.”

  I started to take the blanket off. “Maybe I should go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Mr. Organic,” Herb said, while Lake slowly rolled between me and the door.

  Herb strapped Lake into the van and secured her chair. He strapped me in behind her, his fingers on the back of my neck, digging in.

  “You don’t need to do that,” I said.

  “You have no idea what I need.” He grinned, winding the extra tethers around my wrists and ankles. He slung the doors closed and walked around front. Soon, the van tore down the highway.

  “So, how do you figure ol’ Gothika’s doing right about now?” Herb asked, half turning in his seat.

  “Excuse me?”