The green folder—he didn’t put it back in the travel bag with the kidney.
On his way back to his dressing room, he prompted his VPad, but Mel didn’t respond. She must be really mad. Chase wouldn’t have time to deliver the folder before the shoot. It could wait, he guessed. He slowed his stride, took a breath, and then prompted the med coordinator.
“Mike, I’m an idiot. The matter we discussed, the thing Mel is delivering—I forgot to send the instruction manual.”
“Yeah, Melody handed me the bag, and I reached in and got the little thing. But she said she didn’t know anything about what to do with it. Except that I could stick it in a drawer if I wanted to.”
“Is she still there?”
“No. Hightailed it outta here.”
“I’ll get her to bring you the notes from Dr. Fiender later today. In the meantime, like she said, stick it in a drawer if you want, but keep quiet about it.”
“How about I put it in the safe instead? Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen, Chase. I don’t want to misplace it.”
“Right. Later, Mike. Thanks.”
Chase stuffed the VPad in his pocket and opened the door to his dressing room. There sat Kerstin, the green folder open in her lap.
“Chase, darling, I haven’t seen you since noon yesterday. Where have you been?” She didn’t look up from the page. “And what is this gibberish?” Then she reached for another stack of pages and looked at Chase. “And why did you throw out my notes on the new Moonbeams Tour Company?”
He stood in the doorway. “I didn’t throw them out.”
“Someone did. I found them in the wastebasket.”
“You went through my trash?”
She had a way of smiling through a scowl. “I wanted to know where you went yesterday. I thought I might find a discarded clue.”
He smiled and came into the room. “Don’t you trust me?” Bending to kiss her, he glanced at Dr. Fiender’s notes.
“Chase, I don’t think you went to meet another woman.”
“What then? Do you think I would betray you in any way?”
She closed the folder and held up one hand. With the other, she held up the pages she’d retrieved from the wastebasket. “Explain.”
“Well, the notes about the space vacation probably got knocked into the trash.”
“That assistant of yours did it.”
“No, of course not. Besides, it doesn’t matter. The notes are saved, and I will look into the possibility of sending a winner to the moon.”
“What about this?” She waved the folder in the air. He grabbed it and drew his arm behind his back. “Chase, give it to me.”
“Listen to me. I want to tell you about something wonderful. If you like the idea, and only if you like it, we’ll start doing business with the man who wrote these notes.”
“And who would that be?”
“Dr. Robert Fiender.” Chase sat on the sofa and leaned forward. “He’s a genius, Kerstin. You can’t even imagine what he can do.”
“What I can’t imagine is why you would meet with some quack without my permission. I know you went to BHO—I can track your car easily enough. But then your VPad put up a block. You didn’t take a commercial flight, so I can assume you took a private jet. One belonging to the doctor?”
If she’d been a cat, her back would’ve been arched, her black hair standing on end. Chase stepped away. How did he think he could hide anything from her? But maybe he could stop this tirade.
He slinked to the sofa and motioned Kerstin to sit beside him. As she moved from the desk chair, he opened the folder. “You know more about medical advancement than I could ever hope to know. Now that you’ve read through this, what do you think?”
“I think your friend is telling you how to install a kidney. A kidney he created. Correct?”
“A manmade, universally accepted, fully functioning kidney. It’s a miracle, Kerstin. We can heal all kinds of ailments now.” He closed the folder. “Don’t you think we should take advantage of this technology?”
“How much?”
“It wouldn’t cost SynVue anything. The doctor is just trying to—”
“Trying to test his product. What about liability?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve asked a contestant to sign a waiver.”
She sat motionless, her green eyes steady. “In the future, remind your contacts that I run this show. In fact, you need reminding of that as well. You may be the one who gives good things to the poor and the pitiful, but I determine what is good.”
He lifted her pale hand, kissed it, then rose and walked across the room. “My mistake. I thought we were a team.”
“Your mistake was to go off on your own. It makes me think you want to take credit.”
“I just want to help a man who needs a transplant.” He turned to open the door. “Now if you will excuse me, it’s almost show time, and I haven’t even been to makeup.”
He looked back at her. “May I order the kidney?”
“Don’t be hurt. Of course you may order the kidney. In fact, I’ll do it myself. But before we take this relationship with Dr. Fiender any further, I will meet with him.”
Chase nodded and left the room. Mel was right.
Kerstin was the queen.
6
Chase closed his eyes while his personal presentation assistant combed and plucked his brows. A one-eyed glance at the countdown screen told him it was twenty-two minutes to show time. Today Larin Andrews’ doctors would deliver monologues alternating with a digital diary of Larin’s existence. Between shots, Chase would conduct a live interview, asking questions about the contestant’s past, and meager hope for a future now that his kidneys were kaput.
In a week, Larin would be awarded a kidney, and nobody had to give up one of their own. The slimy thing was in a safe on the other side of the hundred acre SynVue complex. Chase quivered.
“Mr. Sterling, please be still,” the assistant said. “One wrong move and you’ll lose those curly lashes.”
“Sorry.” Chase relaxed into the chair.
After a moment, the girl removed the cover from Chase’s neck and pushed the chair upright. “There now. All done and handsome as always. Blue eyes shining under a perfect brow. A touch of gold added to your chestnut hair.” She sighed. “You’re a vision.”
“Thank you…uh.”
“Nanette.” She smiled, but her eyes showed the hurt.
“Nanette. Of course. What happened to the other lady?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Sterling. Alma’s been gone awhile. I’ve been here two months.”
“Really? Well, thanks.” Chase left the small room and the makeup girl he didn’t know. He wondered briefly how many people worked for him that he couldn’t name.
The stage welcomed him as always—the one true constant in this job. That and Mel. And Kerstin. The golden tiles were among his closest friends. They helped make him who he was—the giver of gifts. The changer of lives. He stood in the middle of the splendor and prepared himself for the show. The crowd on the other side of the retractable lighted partition rumbled with impatience.
Larin waited in the low lights on the left side of the stage. Chase caught the dying man’s eyes. The poor guy looked sicker than ever. His wrinkled shirt and trousers hung on him. Drab, graying hair fell across his forehead. He should be on a hover cart—it would have been better than letting him walk onto the stage. The directors should have thought of that.
The lights at the bottom of the partition swelled in shades of blue and green, and the audience roared as the partition lowered into the underbelly of the auditorium. Chase lifted his hands.
“Welcome to Change Your Life, my fellow comrades in hope. Today we take Larin Andrews a step closer to the wondrous generosity of SynVue. This time next week, we’ll find out what you, the viewers, have chosen as his prize. Will he live his final days in peace and security? Or will he have a long and healthy life blessed with endless bounty? You decide.
Now let’s bring out our contestant and hear his story.”
Larin walked with effort to the center of the stage, and Chase took his arm and turned him to the right. A spotlight illuminated the set-up of a comfortable living room. Larin lowered himself gently onto a plush sofa. Chase sat across from him in a wing chair. Glasses of water waited on a small table.
“Larin, how are you feeling? You look well.” Chase leaned forward and clasped his fingers together.
“I look like death, Chase.” Larin’s hands dropped to the sofa. His breath dragged. He did have a look about him like someone about to pass on. Chase wondered if the makeup team or the Grim Reaper had painted that picture.
“It won’t be long now, my friend. In a week we’ll find out just how much your life will change. We’ll know if we’ve found a match, and if the world has decided you deserve the prize.” Chase lifted a water glass and offered it to Larin.
The fragile man took a sip. “I can tell you this. No one deserves such torture. My health is gone. The medical bills have put my family on the streets. We sleep in a van, the kind that used to run on gasoline. Now it’s our home.” He looked above the audience. “Home sweet home.”
The revelation surprised Chase. He didn’t like surprises. Someone should’ve told him about this. But now he was curious. “You’re nearby, I assume.”
“Whole village of old vans ten miles from here, just outside the city. Where good citizens don’t go, I guess. People like you, like these people here.” He looked at the crowd. “Those who have what they need don’t go out of the city anymore. Nobody does but the poor souls who’ve got nothing.”
“But you spend a good deal of time in Med World, don’t you?” Chase asked. “Surely they take better care of the sick.”
“Med World is for paying customers. My WR med fund ran out a year ago. Without that I can’t pay for a kidney. Without a kidney, I can’t keep up my strength for the WR workforce, which means I can’t replenish my med fund. Which means my family lives in a van outside the city.”
“What was your job in the workforce before you got sick?” Chase knew the answer, but the viewers didn’t.
“I was a sweeper. My assigned lot in life—to run a refuse sweeper. Did you know I went to Yale?”
Chase knew this. An educated man, a Yale graduate, became a common sweeper. The ineffectual methods of the government that gave this man his job also gave Chase his. How could an intellect end up at the bottom, and a man who couldn’t pass trigonometry end up on top?
As if Larin knew what Chase was thinking, he asked, “Where were you educated, Chase?”
“Today is about you, Larin. We are going to change your life. I am going to get you a new kidney.”
“Do you ever think about dying, Chase? It’s not such a scary thing.”
Where was he going with this? “Like I said, Larin...” Chase gave him a firm stare. “It’s your day.” Then under his breath he said, “Use it wisely.”
Larin put on a weak, pitiful smile. “Not that I plan on dying anytime soon. I know my life is about to change for the better.”
Chase looked to the crowd. “Let’s give Larin a round of applause.” The crowd cheered and clapped. “Now, lift your eyes to the GVs. Larin’s doctor will tell us about the technology that’s kept him alive. But techno-meds, for Larin, are at the end of their usefulness.”
Larin looked at his own shoes as a beautiful redhead named Dr. Tara Brown spoke.
“My patient, Larin Andrews, needs something I can’t supply. Our advances in kidney reconstitution have kept him alive for years, but what he needs now is a good old-fashioned transplant.”
Chase nearly chuckled—an old-fashioned transplant.
The doctor continued. “Of course, with regulations and waiting lists, the cost of a good kidney is nearly two million. Mr. Andrews would never be able to afford that.”
Chase looked at his latest contestant while the doctor continued her woeful explanation of the disease. Larin looked up from the floor, and his gray eyes glared back.
****
“What’s with Larin? He should be trying to win over the audience, not scare them.” Chase spoke louder than he should as he stormed past the media reps backstage. Mel followed on his heels.
“Don’t know, boss, but now’s not the time to go there, you know?”
Chase slowed his pace and softened his furrowed brow. “Right.”
“I’m sure nobody noticed but you,” Mel said. “It wasn’t like he was outright rude or anything.” They came to the hall leading to Chase’s dressing room.
He turned to Mel. “Did you notice?”
“Maybe he’s just feeling bad. Maybe it’s the meds.”
“And why didn’t I know the guy lives in a van?” Chase raised his voice. “In a field of vans.”
“I don’t know, boss. Ask the queen.”
Chase started to lecture her for this, another queen reference. But he stopped. Kerstin had to know. Why was she holding back information? “I will,” he said. “Believe me, I will.”
7
Chase went straight to Kerstin’s office. “Why didn’t you tell me Larin lives in a van?”
“It’s not for you to know everything, Chase. You’re just the host. You don’t run the network.”
He didn’t respond to her belittling. “Kerstin, look at me. I want an explanation, and I want it now.”
She met his eyes but without emotion. She didn’t appear frightened by his tone. And she didn’t seem to feel the need to apologize. “Don’t worry. We’ve got it worked out. He’ll get a nice home—at least 8,000 square feet.”
“I don’t care about that. I want to know why you’re keeping me in the dark. We could have played the angle all along. The fans love this kind of thing.” He banged his fist on the desk. “And I’m the one the fans rely on. A contestant shouldn’t surprise me in the middle of a show.”
Still no apology. She just looked at him. “Larin lives in a van, Chase. Satisfied? Our consultants said it would be too much for the show. We can make over a life but not a village. And our audience would want to know why, if Change Your Life couldn’t fix the problem, the government doesn’t do something about it. It’s best to leave widespread poverty alone.”
“So that’s why I’ve never seen or heard of the place until now,” Chase said. “The government doesn’t want to admit people have to live that way.”
“Exactly. You and I, and our winners, give the world hope. But there’s only so much we can do, Chase. We can’t fix everybody. Better to bless a few extravagantly than to give a worthless boost to the masses.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “Now forget about it. What you ought to be worried about is why Larin isn’t drooling over you like he should be at this point. What did you do?”
“What did I do? I got on a globe jet—something I hate—and flew to the desert to get him a kidney that will live longer than he does.”
“I got the kidney, Chase. I sent word to your assistant, Melanie, this morning. She ordered it for me.”
“Her name is Melody.”
“Whatever. Now go on and let me work. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“This isn’t over.” He turned to leave the office but stopped at the door. “I might not make it to dinner. I think I’ll take a drive—I could use some fresh air. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walked away before Kerstin could deny consent.
Chase realized on his way out of the studio that he hadn’t driven his steel blue Selfdrive in a while. He didn’t even know where it was. He rode in a limo most of the time—SynVue property—chauffeured by a man named Hiram, or something like that. He flipped out his VPad and prompted Mel.
“Yeah, boss?”
“Where’s my car?”
“Your car? In your slot. Plugged in. Where else would it be?”
“It’s been a while. Where’s my slot?”
“Boss, are you OK? Want me to call Liam and tell him you need to go somewhere?”
“Fine. I mean no
. Don’t call Liam. I’m going to take a drive.”
“Where are you going?”
“Where is my slot?”
“Did you ask your VPad?”
“I’m asking you, Mel.”
“You want me to come? I’m about through for the day.”
“The slot, Mel. I don’t want company.”
“Level six. Turn right when you get off the elevator. Slot 327.”
“Got it.” He thought Mel started to say something, but he ended the call. The elevator took him to the underground garage and he exited on level six, turned right, and walked a few hundred yards before he found his slot. He was sure he’d never been here. Someone else must have put the car away for him when he drove it last. The steel blue looked more like dusty blue. The push of a button inside the small slot started the air-washer, which swooshed away the filmy grime.
He stood beside the driver’s door, and a tiny camera on the end of a black rod rose from the dark window’s frame. The camera flashed in Chase’s eyes and the door opened. Once inside, Chase commanded the vehicle.
“Power up.”
The car unplugged itself from the panel in the rear of the slot and gave a soft hum.
“Disable autonomous mode.”
Chase took hold of the steering bar and pushed his foot onto the motion petal. He’d take control of the driving today.
Another small car and a limo pulled into the sunlight. The car went left, the limo straight, and Chase turned right. He wanted to get away from anyone else leaving the SynVue complex.
Driving through downtown gave Chase time to think. Larin’s eyes would not leave him alone. But the voice he heard was that of Elaine Jenz, inferring he was the devil. All he wanted to do was help these poor people. Why were they turning on him? Maybe Elaine really did lose her mind. But Larin? He was so friendly, so eager, at first. Maybe it was the meds, like Mel said.
Ten miles outside Chicago, Larin had said, was a village of old vans. Chase got on the north city exit line. South would take him to what was left of the suburbs, east to tech row. And west was nothing but maintained nature preserves where school children went on field trips. The government wouldn’t allow a neighborhood of junk vehicles to spring up there. It had to be to the north.
Wake the Dead Page 3