Wake the Dead

by Victoria Buck

Sunlight and blue-gray water filled Chase’s vision. His father stood on the beach. Dad’s hair was brown and full, his face free of the lines brought by life and time. The Gulf’s placid waves lapped the shore. Gulls flew past.

  And there Chase was in his blue bathing trunks and a tank top with that big yellow bird on the front. He lifted his face to the sun and pushed long bangs from his forehead. When he smiled it became clear he was very young—he still had baby teeth.

  “Charlie, not so far,” Dad called. “When the waves touch your belly you’ve gone far enough.”

  Chase turned to his young father. The salty smell and the heat on his shoulders pulled him in, and it was no longer a game or a dream. It was real.

  “OK, Daddy.”

  His dad took a few steps and picked up his fishing pole, being careful not to cast too close to Chase or others frolicking in the water nearby. He walked a distance down the shore and then looked back and waved. Chase waved in return.

  Chase bent to scoop a handful of wet sand and let it sift through his fingers. Two tiny shells were left in his palms. He rubbed them carefully to remove the grit, examined them, and tossed them back into the waves.

  He looked to see if his father was still there. Of course, he was. Chase marched through the water, splashing as he went.

  “I don’t think I’m gonna find any good shells today,” he said when he reached his father.

  “We should have come earlier,” Dad said. “I don’t think I’m going to catch any fish.”

  But the line pulled tight. “I got one, Charlie.” He gave the pole a yank.

  “You think it’s a big one, Daddy?”

  “I hope not.”

  “Why? Mr. Sauder next door is always talking about catching a big one. Don’t you want to catch a big one?”

  “No, and I’ll tell you why, Charlie. If I catch a big one, I’ll be tempted to take it home. And your mother will ask me why I brought that awful thing in the house. She’ll send me out in the yard to cut it up. Then she’ll complain about the mess anyway, and she’ll want to know who’s going to cook it. And I’ll end up taking it over to Mr. Sauder to cook, because I really don’t know anything about cooking fish. Then I’ll have to listen to Mr. Sauder’s story about how the last one he caught was twice the size of the one I caught.”

  Chase tried to follow all this. “So, you want to catch a little one? Like last time?”

  “Exactly.” He smiled. “Do you remember what I did last time?”

  “Yep, you threw it back.” Chase watched the line as he reeled in his catch. “If you don’t want to catch a big one, and you’re just gonna throw back a little one, why did you want to go fishing?”

  “Guess,” he said.

  Chase thought about it. “Beats me.”

  “To spend the day with you, Charlie.”

  Chase smiled and wrapped his arm around his dad’s leg. “Cool.”

  “Hey, look at that. It’s not a fish at all.”

  Chase watched as he reeled in a gray bottle. He wrapped his hand around it, and they rushed to sit on the shore.

  The glass bottle, maybe eight inches long, had a cork stopper. A metal handle protruded on one side. The color was not solid—the glass was smoky. Chase could see inside.

  Something’s in there, Daddy.”

  “Well, sure something’s in there. When you throw a bottle into the ocean, you put a note inside. You send a message.”

  “To who?”

  “To the person who finds the bottle.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “It’s kind of like a game. You put a message in the bottle, then you toss it into the ocean and hope somebody will find it and read your message.” He removed the fishhook from the metal handle and pulled on the cork. “Of course, somebody could be sending out an SOS. But I doubt that really happens. Only in the movies.”

  “What’s an SOS?”

  “A call for help. Suppose someone was stranded on a desert island, or being held hostage on a ship. They’d try to get a message to someone to help them.”

  This struck something inside Chase. “We’ve got to help them.”

  “Like I said Charlie, that probably only happens in the movies.”

  But Chase had to know if somebody needed help. “Hurry, Daddy. Open it.”

  The cork came loose, and Dad stuck his finger into the crusty bottle. He pushed the paper against the inside of the glass and tried to slide the note out. But it wouldn’t come.

  “Here,” he said. “Your fingers are smaller. You try it.”

  Chase poked his finger into the bottle, but he couldn’t grab the edge of the paper. He turned the bottle upside down and shook it. The note fell forward a bit, but he still couldn’t get hold of it.

  “I hate to break it. It’s a beautiful old thing,” his father said. “Let’s take it home and work on it. I bet your mother can get it out.”

  “But, Daddy, somebody could be in trouble!”

  “Come on, son. Nobody’s in trouble. Some kids in Mexico probably put the message in there.”

  “Let’s go,” Chase said. “We have to make sure.”

  They gathered the tackle box, the cooler, and the towels, and climbed into the station wagon. Chase fretted all the way home, wondering if someone was trapped on a boat with a pirate or hiding from headhunters on an island.

  “Daddy, what’s a headhunter?”

  He laughed. “Where did you hear that expression?”

  “On TV.”

  “Long time ago, I guess, natives in the jungle would cut people’s heads off. Now it’s just the name of a jazz band. It’s nothing to worry about, Charlie. Whoever wrote that note is not running from headhunters.”

  Chase hoped Dad was right, but he was still worried.

  At home, Mom took the bottle and cooed over it for a while. Chase tried to be patient, but somebody was in trouble. He just knew it.

  “Mommy, get the note out.”

  “OK, Chase. Expecting a message from a little Mexican girl?”

  “I gotta know what it says, that’s all.”

  She went to the drawer in the kitchen—the one with all the junk in it—and pulled out long tweezers.

  Carefully pushing the tweezers into the bottle, she grabbed hold of the paper. It stuck at the mouth of the bottle, but Mom turned the tweezers until the paper rolled into a narrow tube, and it came right out. She unrolled the note and read it, and then shook her head. “Makes no sense.”

  Dad took the note and read it out loud.

  “‘You will become a helper of those in need. 32-7’” He handed Chase the wrinkled paper. “See, I told you nobody was in trouble,” he said. “Sounds like something out of a fortune cookie.”

  Chase looked at the writing. He took his father’s word for what it said. The numbers, Chase could read for himself. He could count to a hundred. “Man, I thought somebody needed help,” he said. “I was gonna rescue them.”

  Mom pushed the bangs from his face. “And how would you do that, little man?” She smiled. “Let’s clean you up and go to the barber shop.”

  “I could help.” Chase looked at his father. “We could do it, couldn’t we, Daddy?”

  He took the note from Chase and studied it. “I wonder what it means.”

  “We’ll never know,” Mom said. “But the bottle is pretty. Prettier than some old dead fish.” She smiled at Dad, and he kissed her.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. He laid the note on the counter, and Chase picked it up and stuck it in his pocket. He walked to his bedroom and climbed on the bed, sandy swim trunks and all, and closed his eyes.

  “Twenty minutes, Chase,” his mother called. “You want to go to Jo’s for lunch?”

  Chase didn’t answer her. Soon he fell into a dream of saving a poor little Mexican girl from headhunters.

  28

  “You were four when that happened.”

  Chase woke at the sound of the voice and found himself back in the bed in the darkness. “I don’t reme
mber.”

  “Do you remember the bottle? It remained a part of your mother’s collection of knickknacks and dishes. Third shelf down in the curio cabinet.”

  The cabinet came to mind, and Chase saw the smoky gray bottle there. “Yes.”

  “You kept the note until you were ten. One day your mother sent you to clean your room. You dumped the contents of your desk drawer into a trash bag, and that was the end of the note.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Remember the note?”

  “Yes, but it was gibberish,” Chase said.

  “You grew up to be a helper to those in need, didn’t you?”

  Change Your Life filled his thoughts. He remembered every contestant, every prize. Kerstin telling him what to do and when to do it. Directors making every decision that Chase presented to the world as his own. He told himself he made a few lucky people rich. He made them healthy. He made them beautiful. But it had been a sham.

  “I’ve never helped anyone.”

  “People consider you a great man, influential, a friend to the downtrodden.”

  “They’re wrong,” Chase said.

  “How will you fulfill your destiny?”

  “There is no destiny.”

  “You will become a helper to those in need.”

  “That note apparently got thrown out a long time ago. Now I’m ready to throw out the dream. I’m not going to help anybody. Not like this. I don’t want to be a super hero.”

  “Don’t forget the numbers.”

  “Thirty-two, seven,” Chase said. “It was just some stupid game somebody played with an old bottle. Nobody but the person who wrote that note knew what it meant. And I don’t believe the numbers were even there. I’m dreaming or I’m playing some stupid game. That’s all.” The numbers sparked something in the exoself. They split and ran down Chase’s spine. “Processor thirty-two,” he said. “Seventh factor.”

  “That’s right.”

  “What’s right?”

  “Do you want to see Mel?”

  “Are you going to show me when I met her? Did she give me some secret code I can’t remember?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “We’re through with the past. At least for now.”

  “What then, the future? That’s ridiculous. You can’t do that.”

  “Can I turn you into a four-year-old and send you fishing with your father?”

  Chase didn’t answer. The future—his future—was a scary place. The old movie screen came to life. Blue sky met a wide field. Hundreds of people stood in the openness. Smiles and laughter filled the place. And there Chase was. He needed a haircut. His shirt was wrinkled, and his shoes were scuffed. He didn’t look like any super hero. A hand slipped into his, and he looked down at the small brown fingers wrapped around his calloused palm.

  Mel.

  That’s when it became real.

  “Hey, boss, you got those meals ready to deliver?”

  “They’re ready. Dinner for four hundred.”

  “You did all that?” She smiled.

  “Me and a whole bunch of other people.”

  “We’ll be headed for the meeting spot within the hour.”

  “Do you think it’s safe?” Chase asked.

  “Always a risk. You got your sensors turned on?”

  “Yep. No drones nearby.”

  “That could change.”

  “I’ll know if it does.” He scanned the surrounding hills.

  She squeezed his hand. “Have I told you how good it is to be working with you again?”

  “Have I told you how much I missed you?”

  Another voice spoke. “All right, you two, knock it off.”

  Chase’s mother was there, a huge box in her arms. Gray hair crowned her delicate face. Laugh lines deepened when she smiled. She was so beautiful.

  “Let me help you,” Chase said. He took the heavy box and lifted it easily over his head.

  “Show-off,” Mom said. “Get your augmented self over there and load that truck.”

  Chase laughed as he headed for the moving van they’d turned into a kitchen on wheels.

  A big guy came alongside him, and Chase asked him if he knew the location of the meeting place.

  “Processor thirty-two, seventh factor,” he said.

  Chase stopped walking.

  The man looked at him.

  “What did you say?” Chase asked.

  “House thirty-two in the seventh region.”

  “Oh. Yeah, OK. That’s sounds right.” Chase kept walking and then turned to watch Mel. Black curls fell to her shoulders. She and Mom were loading another box. They both looked up from the task and smiled at him, and he went on to the truck.

  His shoes were worn. His hands, as well. He knew there was no house in the country, no warm bed waiting for him. But life was good. He couldn’t believe how good it was.

  The nightmare began when he woke up.

  29

  “He should be waking soon.” The doctor’s voice was back and distant as before.

  Chase struggled to move his lips. “I remember,” he said.

  “What do you remember?” Kerstin’s voice was much closer.

  “No, no, kitten. Secrets will not be shared today.” Chase opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile.

  “Darling, how are you feeling?”

  “Different. Better.”

  “Rest now. We’ll leave for Chicago in the morning. Only three days until your primetime special. The world is abuzz.” Chase smelled her perfume. A strand of her silky hair fell on his neck.

  He lifted his hand and spread his fingers across the back of her head, weaving his fingers into the black tresses. Pulling her close, he kissed her. “I don’t care about the show, Kerstin. Let’s just go home.”

  “Not yet, Chase.”

  “Can I still see in the dark and all that stuff?”

  “Nothing has changed.”

  “I can’t wait to show it off. Are you going to turn out the lights in the studio?”

  “If that’s what you want. Maybe we’ll let Larin hold a sign with a message, and you can read it in the dark.”

  “Can I lift the old boy over my shoulders and toss him into the crowd?”

  “You mean like in the days of the mosh pit?”

  “Or the trash pit.” Chase laughed.

  “That’s not very nice,” Kerstin said.

  “What do you care?”

  “I care about perception. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “Of course, kitten. I’ll do nothing to embarrass the network.”

  “The last time you referred to me as a feline I found it rather offensive. Now it’s kind of sweet. You may continue to call me kitten.”

  “Whatever you say, kitten.” He smiled. “Where’s that crazy old doctor?”

  “Robert? He right here. He hasn’t left your side.”

  “Bob, old boy,” Chase yelled. “Get over here.”

  The doctor came across the room and stood beside Kerstin.

  “I’m glad you’re awake, son,” Fiender said. “I was beginning to think we’d have to load you onto the jet unconscious.”

  “I just wanted to apologize to you both for any problems I’ve caused. I intend to be a good boy from now on.”

  “What is it that you’ve done?” the doctor asked. “Tell me.”

  “I think I…”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “I don’t think so.” Chase closed his eyes and rubbed his face.

  “Do you remember taking the limo and racing into the desert?” Kerstin asked.

  “I would never do that.”

  The doctor cleared his throat. “Do you remember shutting down the security force?”

  “Security force?” Chase opened his eyes to find Kerstin pulling the doctor to the other side of the room.

  “I don’t think he remembers the trouble he caused. He seems almost, I don’t know,” Kerstin said. “Drunk.”

  “It’s the drug.
It’ll wear off,” Robert told her.

  “People, I turned on my super ears,” Chase said. “I can hear you.”

  They came to his bedside.

  “Never mind,” Kerstin said. “Go to sleep. Robert and I will get everything ready for the trip home.”

  “I don’t know how to shut down a security force.” Chase looked at the doctor. “Bob, do you know how to shut down a security force?”

  The doctor grumbled and shook his head. “That’s enough, son.”

  Kerstin pulled the doctor away again. This time she took him out of the room. “I just wanted him manageable, Robert. I didn’t want you to turn him into a blithering idiot.”

  “I can still hear you,” Chase said.

  ****

  By morning the haze in Chase’s head had cleared. Anxious to get back to Chicago, he returned to his room in the guest quarters, under close guard, to shave and shower and pack his things.

  Halfway through his shave, Kerstin came into the room. She seemed out of breath when she stopped ten feet from the open bathroom door.

  She smiled. “There you are,” she said. “Those peons in the lab shouldn’t have moved you without my permission.”

  “You told me we were leaving, and I wanted to get ready.” He finished the shave and put down the laser razor. “I can’t wait, kitten. I long for the crowd, the celebration. I want to move on, to embrace the new ways of changing lives.” He rinsed his face and came out of the bathroom. “And I can’t wait to see Larin. How’s he doing? Is the new kidney functioning properly?”

  “Yes, he’s fine. You’ll be surprised though. He looks quite different.”

  “I’m sure. We can’t put a sick old street sweeper in charge of a new show.”

  “You really are interested in the network’s plans now, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve always been interested, kitten. Nothing else matters.” He came to her and put his arms around her. “Almost nothing.”

  “Chase, finish getting ready. I’ll see you back in the lab in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, kitten. I’ll get my shower now.”

  “You are feeling all right now, aren’t you?”

  “Never felt better in my life. Whatever adjustments Robert made to the exoself, the old me appreciates it tremendously.”