All of the Above

by Timothy Scott Bennett

  She closed her eyes. The wrongness was underground, ticking and grating like a broken clock. Alice sent her awareness across the city and through the rock, expanding out into time and space as her mother had taught her. She flinched. There was so much wrongness in this city that it hurt to let it all in. Her mother had shown her how to build the inner walls she would need, in order to survive amongst these humans. But some new wrong had broken through those walls. Some great pain. Something deep underground. She followed the wrongness back to its source.

  It was the alive one they called Mork.

  Alice started down the hall.

  18.3

  Heads would roll. Or maybe they’d just splatter. Whichever hurt more. Rice would see to it himself. When soldiers started abandoning their posts in the middle of an alert it was time to shake shit up. Things were getting way too sloppy. Maybe that’s why the aliens had abandoned him. They would only return when he got his own house in order. So be it. That was the sort of work he most enjoyed anyways.

  Rice stalked the halls, glad to be back in the human half of the facility. He said nothing to the other soldiers he passed at their posts. He didn’t want to show his hand. He’d find those AWOL motherfuckers swigging lattes in a break room one day soon and put a couple of bullets into their heads. If the bugs wanted action they’d get action.

  He turned down the hallway that led to his office. The General’s call had interrupted his breakfast and he still hadn’t had his second cup of coffee. Maybe the bomb squad had arrived by now. They said they’d be here first thing. Rice felt a tickle on his head and reached up to smooth his hair. He sneered. Maybe that tickle was Bob, dogging his every step, trying to get through, screaming at him to get the Faraday shield off her body so she could reconstitute. Fuck her. Let her simmer. She’d failed him once again. Got her ass whupped by a gang of arctic Ewoks. He’d let her come back when he was damned well good and ready.

  He punched the lockpad and his office door slid open. There stood Crazy Carl with a pistol pointed at his face. Fuck.

  “Hello, Ted,” said Obie.

  “Carl,” said Rice with a slight nod. “How ‘bout them Cubs?” He noticed the President, seated at his conference table, and her loverboy standing off to the left. Rice smiled. Something inside of him relaxed. If nothing else, this would be really, really fun.

  “Just lost to Houston, I heard. Finished two games out. No pennant, once again. Sorta like you, Ted.”

  “Ooh, nice metaphor,” trilled Rice. “I love it when you go all Harry Caray. You missed your calling.”

  Obie stepped back and gestured with his head. “Sit down, Ted.”

  Rice shrugged. “I was hoping we could dance longer,” he whined with mock sadness. He moved into the room after Obie, nodding at the President before taking the seat nearest the door, opposite Linda. “Good to see you looking so well, Ma’am,” he said with a smile. “The new ‘do suits you. Kind of a Sinead O’Connor thing, isn’t it? Very sexy. Vogue will be calling for your cover shoot.”

  Linda looked directly into his eyes but did not respond.

  The door slid closed. Obie took a position to Rice’s right, standing with his back to the wall. He did not lower his gun. Cole took a seat on Rice’s left, next to Linda. He reached out and took the President’s hand.

  Rice smiled, looking back and forth between Linda and Cole. “So, you guys are honeymooning in D.C. You been to the Folger yet? I hear their new Othello is marvelous.”

  “Cut the crap,” said Cole.

  “Ah, loverboy’s a ‘cut the crap’ man, is he? That should certainly make things easier.” Rice sat back and stretched his arms, cupping his head in his hands. As though the gods had smiled upon him, his headache had disappeared entirely.

  Linda nodded slightly, as if in agreement with his assessment. “I’m glad we finally have a chance to talk, Mr. Rice,” she said evenly. “We have some catching up to do.”

  “Indeed,” said Rice, raising an eyebrow. He’d been expecting something coarse and insulting. “I’m afraid I’ve let the place run down a bit since you left, Mrs. President. My apologies.” He noticed the remains of his breakfast on the table and leaned forward to grab his cup. “Do you mind?” he said, pointing at the thermal carafe.

  “You don’t seem surprised to see us, Ted,” said Obie, ignoring Rice’s request.

  Rice turned to his former protégé. “You forget that I command the world’s largest and most advanced surveillance organization, Carl, utilizing alien technologies undreamt of by the cattle. And you forget our operatives in the astral realm. I am a very difficult man to surprise.”

  Obie waited for Rice to continue. Rice looked around the room, then back at Obie.

  “Nevertheless, you are incorrect. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d find you here this morning. I figured you all halfway to Tierra del Fuego by now. I take it you entered through the Watergate conduit and came up through the Lodge? No doubt you can tell me the whereabouts of a couple of missing soldiers.”

  Obie smiled. “You’ll find them nicely wrapped in a storage closet near their post, Ted. They looked almost relieved to see us.”

  “Did they?” said Rice. “I must not be paying them enough.”

  Obie shrugged. “You’re pretty much running blind at this point, aren’t you Ted?”

  Rice smirked. “Blind, my boy?”

  “Blind arrogance,” said Cole with disgust.

  Rice looked at Linda. “Is he just here for color commentary or should I consider him a player in this game?” he asked, gesturing toward Cole with his head.

  Cole just stared and said nothing.

  “Blind as in you didn’t see us coming because you’ve been taken out of the game, Ted,” said Obie. “And Cole’s right. Only arrogance would forget to close down the Watergate conduit. Only arrogance would assume we had no choice but to keep on running forever. And only arrogance would find it impossible to believe that the alive ones have decided to back another horse.”

  Rice started to laugh, pointing at Cole and Linda. “You mean these two?” he said. “Please. I’ve been with the Life from the beginning. They’re not about to hand the operation over to some farmer’s wife and her new boy-toy. You’ve spent too many winters on the street, man. The rotgut has ruined your mind.”

  “You don’t know what happened, do you?” asked Obie.

  “What happened where?” said Rice.

  It was Obie’s turn to smile. “You weren’t at Cole’s house, Ted. Another bit of arrogance on your part. You thought we’d be a piece of cake. And nobody’s returned yet, have they?” He started to laugh. “And you’ve been puking your guts out.”

  “I think you’ll find that I still have all the guts I need, Carl.”

  “Bravado,” said Carl dismissively. “Your same old song and dance. Seems like you’d be tired of it by now.” Obie took a seat, two chairs separating him from Rice. He laid his handgun on the table. “So let me give you a quick update, Ted. Random’s gone. Caught himself a rubix. Lucky break for him. Bob ran away. As did Alice. My guess is that neither have reconstituted. And I haven’t seen Mary yet. Did she run too?”

  Rice opened his mouth for a smart retort and then clamped it shut. Carl did not need to know what Rice did and did not know. He looked at the President, who regarded him with gentle eyes. Right. They probably worked it out ahead of time. Linda would be the good cop. Keep her little hands clean. He turned back to the bad cop. “So what is it you kids want?” he said.

  It was the good cop who responded. “First, I want to apologize, Mr. Rice. And then I want to talk about you and I working together.”

  Obie and Cole looked at Linda in shocked disbelief.

  18.4

  Mary ran down the hotel stairway and through the lobby to the street. What she saw in the morning light surprised her. When had this neighborhood become so run down? Sure, she didn’t get out of the Rock or the White House all that much, but she wasn’t a total recluse. Hadn’t it only been a
month ago that she’d had a kebab at Cyrus’s? Now it was closed. And had that pile of trash been sitting across the street then? It looked as though it had. Mary glanced up and down the street. To her eye, the so-called “great recession” was a slow-motion avalanche moving steadily toward the great city’s political center, cracking and taping windows, closing businesses, scouring out potholes, and leaving overflowing dumpsters and empty parking spaces in its wake. It wouldn’t be long now before it engulfed the National Gallery and lapped against the steps of both the White House and the U.S. Capitol. Would anybody notice, even then? Or would they, like she, be so intent on scoring a quick lunch that they wouldn’t even see the garbage underfoot? Mary squinted up at the sun as it peeked through the thick, autumn haze, pulled her coat tighter around her, and headed toward the White House.

  She’d dreamt of Alice. The tiny thing had fallen down a well and broken her leg, and the well had begun to cave in. Alice had screamed and Mary had gasped herself awake. She’d scanned the room, seeing only Cole’s two children sleeping in the other bed. Rising quietly, she checked the bathroom. Alice was not there. An image of the White House popped into her mind. Mary knew where Alice had gone.

  Pulling on her jeans and sweater, Mary had awakened Iain and Emily to tell them she had to go. She’d made them promise to stay right where they were, then grabbed her coat and ran.

  She hurried west on H Street and angled southward on New York NW. As she walked her urgency grew tattered with doubt. What was she doing? Was she going to walk right back into Rice’s hands? Based on a dream? And yet, Alice was gone. That dark well was going to collapse. The dream had been a warning. Mary kept walking.

  She cut across 15th Street at the light and hurried along the east side of the Treasury Building, taking the first set of steps and ducking through the door. She flashed her ScanIdent at the waiting uniform and checked her watch with an irritated sigh, a gesture intended to intimidate. Seeing her department holo, the guard let her through without a moment’s hesitation. A stylized Earth inside a red oval was pretty much a free pass anywhere in the city, no questions asked. None of these goons knew what her department did. They just knew that that symbol meant power.

  Mary headed to the first set of elevators on the left. Now she had to pass through Rock Security. It was almost seven-thirty. Hopefully Al would be on. He would remember her. She didn’t use this entrance much, but she didn’t want to chance the main White House guards.

  The elevator came to a stop and she stepped out into a quiet, empty corridor. She headed right and followed the hallway as it veered to the left. She sighed with relief. There was Al, sitting behind the guard station. He sat with his back to her, reading the Post. His bushy white hair shone slightly green under the overhead fluorescents. Mary approached as nonchalantly as she could. Her heart was pounding.

  “Any news, Al?” she said.

  Al turned and smiled, then checked it. “Hi, Mary,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  Mary rummaged in her pocket for her ScanIdent. “Got called out on assignment,” she explained. “Had a lead on the President.” Mary quivered inside. She hadn’t had any idea what she would say. The words just came, as if written by an unseen hand. She found her Ident and handed it to Al, who looked at it warily.

  “Got a comm here says I’m not supposed to let you in, Mary.” Al looked genuinely apologetic. “Says, in fact, that I’m supposed to call security if I see you.”

  Mary started to laugh. “Oh my God,” she said, “What a baby!”

  Al frowned. “Who you talking about, Mary?”

  “Rice,” she said, still chuckling. “I steal his parking space one time and he’s gotta pull stupid shit like this.” She shook her head as if to say what a goofball.

  Al smiled hesitantly. “Be that as it may…,” he began.

  “Oh I know, Al. I won’t put you in the middle of it. Just let me talk to the General and he’ll pass me through. They’re probably watching on the cams right now, laughing their asses off.”

  Al frowned again but did as she suggested. He got on the phone and punched through to the General’s secretary. He handed her the phone.

  “Wanda? Hi, it’s Mary. The General there?”

  Mary listened for a moment.

  “Okay. Listen, I’m here at Treasury 4 with Al. He’s got some comm from Rice saying to arrest me, the bastard. Any chance you can clear me in?” Mary listened again. “Okay. I’ll wait here for you then.” She hung up the phone.

  She turned to Al. “The General’s out. Wanda’s gonna come up.”

  Al smiled, relieved to have the pressure off his shoulders. “So no success with your lead, then?” he asked.

  Mary frowned. “My lead? Oh, the President. Nope. Another wild goose. But we gotta chase ‘em all, don’t we, Al?”

  “Yep,” said Al. He sighed. “I don’t know how you intelligence people keep going. Not in this crazy world.” He smiled, as if to offer his understanding and gratitude to a front-line hero.

  The double doors behind Al slid open. Out stepped two soldiers, guns already drawn.

  18.5

  “You have my attention,” said Rice.

  Linda nodded. “I thought I might. But we need a couple of things from you first.”

  Rice shrugged. “Coffee? Danish? A lumbar cushion, maybe?”

  “I want to know where my kids are,” said Cole. His voice was stark and low.

  Rice turned to Cole with a sigh. “Couldn’t tell you, Mister President,” he said.

  “You bastard!” said Cole, rising. Linda stopped him with a hand on his arm. Cole sat back down.

  “Was that not right?” asked Rice, turning to Linda. “Will you not be getting married then? Just keep him on as the official State Rentboy?” Rice started to laugh.

  “Please tell us where they are, Rice,” said Linda, calmly.

  Rice sighed and looked at Cole like he might regard some rich woman’s poodle. “Well, despite the powerful prognosticatory powers of your big brother here, Alice did reconstitute. You’ll be happy to learn that the little shit has absconded with your two larvae. We have yet to figure out how they got out of here or where they’ve gone.”

  Cole’s eyes widened. A slight smile flashed across his face, but he was too angry to sustain it. “And my youngest, Grace? What did you do to her, you sick fuck?”

  Rice looked at Linda with exasperation. “Is this how we shall become friends and partners, Linda? With names and accusations?” He turned back to Cole with an expression of loathing. “I have no idea what happened to your third child, Mr. Thomas. Didn’t even know you had a third child. Perhaps when you ran away with our Mrs. President here, the girl shriveled up and blew away. That happens, you know. Abandoned children have a way of … surprising us.”

  Cole flinched at Rice’s words but held his gaze. “She’s in the hospital, Rice.”

  “Ah. I’m sorry to hear that. At least you must find comfort in the knowledge that the hospital staff won’t leave her like you did.”

  Cole started to rise again.

  “Leave it, Cole,” said Linda, as gently as she could. She flashed Rice a piercing look. “Where’s my mother, Rice?”

  Rice leaned forward and rubbed his head. “You know,” he said with an air of boredom, “maybe you guys should go talk to the milk carton folk. Put up some posters or something. Come back when you’ve got your people all accounted for. I’m busy here.” He picked at a fingernail.

  “Is she here?” asked Linda.

  Rice looked up. “You mean the Queen Mother?”

  Linda nodded.

  Rice sighed. “No. She isn’t,” he said.

  “Where is she?”

  Rice waved the question away. “I don’t know. Dead, maybe. Some topside asylum, most likely. The General set it up. You know the drill: three square salines a day and all the TV she can sleep through. Probably happy as a lark.”

  “You speak so casually of death,” said Cole.

  Ri
ce smirked. “You, of all people, should realize how ridiculous that is to say.”

  “I want her back,” said Linda evenly.

  “Well, I suppose that’ll depend on whether you can sell me on this new, improved Linda Travis,” said Rice.

  A knock sounded at the door. Rice smiled.

  “Who’s that?” whispered Obie.

  “How’s about I call out and we’ll see, Carl?”

  Linda nodded.

  “Yes?” said Rice loudly.

  “It’s Sergeant Gordon, Mr. Rice.”

  Rice looked at Obie. “Shall I?” he said in a low tone.

  Obie pointed at the gun. “Get rid of him. Or you get a bullet in your head.”

  Rice smiled. “Oh, don’t worry, Carl,” he said in a mock whisper. “I’ll get rid of him. This is way too much fun to have it be interrupted now.” Rice rose and stepped to the door, making sure to slide it open only slightly so that the sergeant could not see in. “Yes, sergeant? Oh! My goodness, it’s Mary! Please, sergeant, I’ll take her from here. Yes, leave the cuffs.” Rice stepped back and Mary came in.

  Rice closed the door and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He looked around the room. Mary stood to one side, looking at the others in shock. “It’s like Old Home Week!” he said, cheerily.

  18.6

  Alice slumped against a concrete pillar. Across a small paved drive was a strange red building. She had no idea what a German Evangelical Lutheran Church was. She simply knew that Mork was directly beneath her.

  She was exhausted. She’d never been topside on her own before. She’d had no idea it was so noisy. Or that there were this many humans living here. She understood better Mr. Rice’s disdain. Most of these people felt barely conscious.