A car came down the road, and Arithmos faded from view as it drove past. The driver of the other car waved and Dom waved back, watched as he drove on and around the distant bend. Wind tried to toss him out onto the road, and he held onto the roof of his rental for balance. “This place easy to find?”
There was no answer; the numbers were gone, not just hiding. “Well, let’s see what this Ullapool looks like, shall we?” Billy opened the door when Dom didn’t respond, and climbed in and closed the door before Dom retook control. Jenna climbed back in and wrestled her own door shut, and then with a quick shoulder check—no cars, no surprises—Dom pulled back out and followed the road.
18
Ullapool was a very pleasant little town, with a ferry terminal that took people and cars to the Outer Hebrides, and enough amenities to show that it must have been something of the go-to destination for people in even smaller towns for many miles about, as well as plenty of tourists: a decent sized grocery store, a library, lots of hotels and bed and breakfasts, more restaurants than just the usual fast food blight that every similar small town in North America suffered from, and plenty of small specialty shops.
They found a couple of hotel rooms without any trouble, and after showers and changes of clothes, Jenna and Dom met up and headed down to a fish-and-chip shop they’d seen near the ferry terminal. The wind was still fierce, the air damp and cool, but the town itself acted as something of a windbreak from this angle, so they kept themselves bundled up in their jackets and found a place to sit near the water where they ate in silence, watching the gulls gather nearby as they awaited potential scraps, surfing the wind and occasionally dropping down low to check out any speck that looked a likely prospect.
Finally full, Dom scattered his last handful of chips across the rocks on the beach, and the gulls dove down in a white and grey and yellow mass, full-throated as each let the others know that this was his or her prize, and the rest of them should just bugger off right now. A few of the unlucky ones walked up closer and stalked around Dom and Jenna for a time, watching them with one eye , but Jenna finished all of hers and pocketed the garbage from the both of them, and then stuck her tongue out at the birds. Dom laughed, as did Billy at the very same moment, a dissonant sound that affected even Dom’s ear, and the look that Jenna gave him cut the laughter off almost immediately. The birds that were within range to hear all launched themselves into the air immediately, and after one quick circle to make sure that they hadn’t missed any precious morsels, rode the violent currents of air towards another prospective meal, one that would presumably be less disturbing.
“It would have been nice to come here just for a vacation,” said Jenna after a minute.
Dom raised an eyebrow. “Vacation to me means sunny resorts an’ shit. Not that I ever took a vacation.”
Jenna shook her head. “I grew up in Utah. I figure I’ve had enough sunshine to last me the rest of my life.” She hugged herself. “I mean, I’m cold, and the weather is miserable, and we haven’t even seen much in the way of rain yet, but if it weren’t for the numbers and for Napier and friends coming after us, this would be a really neat place to visit.”
Dom looked out over the harbour. Not far out a seal reared up out of the water, stared back at him for a moment before diving back down; numbers unlike anything he’d ever seen trailed in the animal’s wake, but even from here he could tell they were nothing to worry about. Far away, a ferry was coming in from one of the distant islands, fighting its way through the choppy water. Across the water a hole opened up in the sky, and for a few moments the sun shone through like a spotlight. Dom smiled. “It is pretty country, isn’t it?”
“A harsh land,” said Billy. “Harsher than the seaside I once . . .” A pause, and then, “Another memory! I once lived near the ocean.” Dom felt Billy frown. “Or I did for awhile, at least.”
Jenna grinned. “Can you remember anything else?”
Billy shook Dom’s head. “Not yet. But that’s something. Maybe just being back here is shaking some things loose, first the poem and now this small thing, like a slightly faded transparency laid over what’s in front of my—our—eyes right now.”
Jenna stood, put her hand on Dom’s shoulder. “I want us to get an early start tomorrow.” She held out a hand and helped Dom stand as well, held his hand for a fraction of a second too long, then gave him a quiet smile before letting go. “It’s going to be a big day, I think. Get this part done, only one leg left.”
Dom nodded, but it was Billy who answered. “Spoken like a true optimist.”
On that note, they walked back to the hotel in silence. Outside their rooms, Jenna gave Dom a peck on the cheek and said goodnight.
He didn’t sleep well that night; thoughts of Jenna wouldn’t stay out of his head, and he tossed and turned for much of the evening. Twice he tried to talk with Billy, but both times received the briefest of answers; his shadow was off somewhere or sometime else, trying to dig up more memories and unwilling to concentrate on anything like conversation. But eventually sleep did claim him, a slumber accompanied by the gentle whisper of local numbers regularly scraping over the roof and brushing against the window as they were blown in from the sea.
subset
Oddly enough, the best chance that Ruth had to escape from Napier, to dump him from her body for good and for real, came when he was likely at his strongest.
The flight landed in Glasgow, and even the captain of the plane sounded surprised at how easily everything went. She could see numbers through the window and sense others further afield, all scrambling to ease John Napier’s path back on his own soil, their plane being bumped ahead of others in the queue, time and again getting preferential treatment.
And when they exited the plane—naturally the first off, even ahead of those in business class—the explosion of joyous celebration had caught even Napier off guard, the sensation of rapture only equalled, or perhaps even surpassed, by an absolute raging hatred, a blinding and seething anger towards their prey that Napier had obviously passed on to the numbers in the short time they’d been in contact with each other; she could practically smell the origins of that animosity on the numbers, having lived these past days embedded in it every moment. It was in the midst of this celebration that Ruth sensed an opening.
They were both overwhelmed by all the numbers and by the astonishing variety of those numbers that had come to greet Napier, but Ruth was able to slip away from attention soon enough, seeing how she was emphatically not the reason the numbers were there to celebrate. She steeled herself to push back, surprised still that Napier hadn’t noticed anything amiss, but just as she had found some background numbers she felt she could manipulate, the other shadow spoke to her, hopefully softly enough that Napier wouldn’t detect the internal voice: Mā. I mean, please don’t. He’ll know, the very second you call to them. And then he’ll push you so far down you’ll never find your way back out again.
The words were not enough to stop her, but just as she reached out towards the numbers Ruth felt her right hand—her real right hand, which at the moment was still controlled by Napier—twitch, and then she watched as the numbers she’d been so focused on do a little dance through the air before flying off, tearing up into the sky as if they’d been launched on a rocket. No words were spoken, but at that moment Ruth could feel one small portion of Napier’s attention turned inward, glaring down at her as if she were at the bottom of a deep, dark well.
She was certain then that she would never get out.
19
They’d woken up to rain, torrential sheets of it that now sometimes fell straight down, sometimes shifted position and came at the car from one side or the other. Breakfast in their laps as they drove north, the landscape on this side of Ullapool lacked in trees, but certainly not in water. The wipers were working overtime, and Dom drove much slower than he wanted, unsure not only where the turnoff was that he needed, but right now not even sure sometimes where the road was.
Through momentary gaps in the rain he could see some hills reaching up to be swallowed by the clouds; back home, the mountains reached up to meet the clouds, but here it seemed more accurate to say that the clouds came down to settle in with the mountains, everywhere on them green foliage accompanied by purple heather. Stone walls traced their way across the countryside, on rare occasions accompanied by a farmhouse, on even rarer moments another vehicle on the road, invariably driving far more recklessly than Dom would have liked. They saw sheep as well, but he imagined that the majority of farm animals were smarter than he was and today made sure they stayed somewhere less affected by the weather.
“Hungry,” he said. They had found that Dom could watch the road with one hand on the wheel, while Billy used the other hand to bring the sandwich up from his lap or his coffee up from the cup holder to his mouth, and somehow this allowed him more concentration for the road than if he were doing it all himself. He took a bite, chewed loudly for a moment, swallowed and grunted for another bite. Then Billy put the sandwich back down and he grabbed the wheel with both hands again.
There was still no sign of Arithmos, but after fuelling up that morning Jenna had grabbed a map. Roads were scarce in this part of Scotland, so it wasn’t too difficult to find their own way. Arithmos had said their next stop was the Point of Stoer, and so rather than sit on the side of the road and wait for the numbers to come around, they had pushed on.
Driving slowly, his attention focused hard on the road, Dom still drove right past the turnoff and had to stop and back up about a hundred feet. There weren’t too many people stupid enough to be out on a day like today, though, so he had little concern that he would be rear-ended by a speeding metal surprise.
The road to their destination was a single track, barely wide enough to handle the little car he was driving. They passed pullouts at fairly frequent intervals, just like when he’d been on Seil Island the other day; surprisingly, within the first ten minutes he had to use three of them, waving to drivers as they went past on their way from one place to another, barely able to see their upturned palms behind cascading sheets of water, but knowing they were waving, since it seemed all drivers here were friendly and polite.
The land was desolate, a few tiny faded white farmhouses sitting back among rolling green hills, very little vegetation aside from grass and rare low shrubs. Some sheep were cropping at the grass while they stood at the bottom of a hill or hid behind some scraggly bush or a low stone wall, trying to keep their rears to the wind, and once, at the top of a hill just before he rounded a bend, Dom saw something standing and watching them from the top of a hill, possibly a very large dog.
After the first three cars and one tractor about ten minutes later, there were no more vehicles. The wind picked up even more, rocking the car back and forth a few times, but without any sign of accompanying numbers that could be seen as a potential threat. The rain, which had let up for a few minutes, began to fall again, slicing through the air in waves, rattling against the windshield, a sound like someone hurling random handfuls of gravel as they inched along in the suddenly low visibility.
“Should you pull over?” asked Billy.
Dom grinned. “Jesus, Billy, you don’t usually sound worried.” He squinted ahead and saw a turnoff, pulled in and slipped the car into neutral and pulled up the parking brake. “What the hell.” He flexed his fingers, heard and felt the knuckles crack. “Getting pretty tense with this.”
The wind and rain were even louder without the wheels running against the road. They sat and listened to it for awhile, watching the whole time for any sign that the sky might be clearing up, and waiting for Arithmos to appear. “Not going to happen,” Jenna said finally, leaning forward to look up at the grey through the windshield.
Dom felt Billy arch his eyebrow. If anything, that was an understatement. No longer were the blasts of rain feeling random, but instead it was a constant roar, slapping against the car in a perpetual horizontal waterfall. The wind now rarely took the time to slow down enough to allow the car to settle back down, and outside the windows was a running drab watercolour, green and grey smeared together seemingly forever.
There was a thump against the back of the car, and Jenna let out a small squeak as Dom spun in his seat, trying to see out the back window what had made the noise. Nothing was there that he could see, which of course meant nothing right now.
The noise came again, and the car shook a little.
“Probably a sheep, found itself a nice place to hide from the wind and rain,” said Dom, hoping his voice sounded more certain to Jenna than it did to him.
Both back doors flew open and just as quickly closed again, but not before the inside of the car was turned into a cold shower. As soon as the doors were closed Arithmos was sitting there. “Drive again,” said the numbers.
“Why the hell did you need to open the doors?” Dom got the car back in gear and pulled out onto the road, hoping to hell he could tell where the road ended and the sky began.
“They just opened in response to us,” replied Arithmos. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
Dom leaned forward and tried to force his eyes to see through the weather. “Can I use some numbers to clear the way?”
“No,” said Arithmos. While Jenna reached into the back and found a t-shirt that was still dry enough to wipe things down, the numbers continued: “The Napier adjunct is close. We sent up the weather to try and slow them down, but it will only hold for so long. But we should have a safe haven soon enough, as long as you can get there in time.” Dom picked up the speed a bit. “Don’t worry about traffic,” said Arithmos. “There will be no one else on the road here.”
The feeling of the road soon changed, the sound of pavement giving over to the pops and bumps of gravel. “Drive forward another fifteen seconds at this speed and then stop,” said the numbers, leaning over Dom’s shoulder.
Dom counted down from fifteen and then stopped the car, skidding briefly through loose gravel. The wind promptly stopped, and although the rain continued to fall, it came from above rather than the side, and no longer sounded so angry and powerful.
With the car shut off, the only sounds were the rain drumming on the roof of the car, the wind gusting enough to frequently rock the car back and forth, and the breathing of Dom and Jenna. Outside, Dom thought he heard something other than the weather, and after a few seconds he could see some hints of shape and movement in the grey atmospheric blur that surrounded them. He gripped the steering wheel, looking for numbers he could call down if this went all wrong.
Then, out of the mist of the low lying cloud, stepped a small herd of sheep. Dom chuckled at his nervousness. “Is this the spot?” he asked.
“Yes.” They opened the doors and climbed out, and before they had their doors closed again their hair was plastered to their heads and water was running down their faces in tiny persistent rivers.
The sheep slowly ambled away up the hill, stopping now and again to crop at the wet grass. In the distance stood an old lighthouse, and nearby was a trail leading along near the edge of tall cliffs. “The lighthouse was designed by numerates,” said Arithmos, almost shouting to be heard over the wind and rain. “The father and uncle of Robert Louis Stevenson, who, they were unhappy to discover, had no numerate ability himself. The structure itself serves as a sentinel, keeping watch much as the trees of the hazelwood and the kirk of the island did.”
“So the next package is nearby?” asked Jenna. She was leaning into Dom to keep the wind away from her face.
“Up the hill, yes,” said the numbers, and they proceeded to move in that direction. The sheep scattered as Dom and Jenna followed.
“You still have the original package, we know,” said Arithmos. “You are carrying the others that you have retrieved since arriving in Scotland?”
Dom tapped his pocket and nodded.
“Excellent. Then listen carefully. This will be the last bundle. When you get it you will likely have but moments before N
apier is able to find you.”
“What the fuck?” Dom turned on Arithmos, but the numerical creature was still heading up the hill, and he had to step lively to catch up.
“What you will have will help you avoid Napier and his host, but it will also serve as something of a beacon. Jenna will be unaffected, and will be able to move on to a safe place near the Old Man of Stoer once you’re gone.”
“Gone?” Jenna reached out and took Dom’s hand. “Do you mean he’s going to leave me?”
“It’s the only way Napier—or rather, the numbers Napier sends—won’t stay around. We would explain more thoroughly, but the moment approaches, and we would rather you both be safe, rather than just one of you.”
“As opposed to dead,” muttered Billy. Dom ignored him, and the wind made it likely that Jenna hadn’t heard.
The hill was steep, and dangerously slippery in the rain. Twice Jenna almost fell, but both times Dom managed to steady her, which she did once for him as well. They walked, heads down, Dom shivering as his thin jacket soaked right through, for a good twenty minutes before they came to something that relieved the visual monotony of green grass punctuated by the odd occurrence of sopping-wet sheep droppings. It was a concrete pad, about the size of a large trailer, with three abandoned and rusty chair frames somewhat artfully arranged on it. On the other side of the pad there was a gravel track wide enough for a car, and further up the hill sat more pads, along with more detritus that showed that people had once lived here.
Napier's Bones Page 17