The Otherworld

by Mercedes Lackey

  "Jamie?" Joe said, careful to watch his volume. "It's Joe. Sit tight, I'll be inside in a minute."

  In seconds he had clipped through the padlock with the bolt cutters and opened the twin doors.

  Joe immediately saw by the light creeping in from behind why the boy was crying; there was no emergency lighting inside, and he had been lying in total darkness. Before doing anything else, he reached up and turned off the security camera. The power wasn't on yet, but when it did come on he figured this would be one of the first rooms security would be most interested in investigating.

  "Here, partner," Joe said, holding out the jerky. "Eat this. If you see them coming, hide it. Don't let them know you have it."

  But Jamie was too busy hanging onto Joe's knee to eat. "Where have you been?" the boy managed to blurt out.

  The effort of sitting up and talking seemed to exhaust him. Jamie flopped back down on the mattress, sitting up on one elbow. Slowly, he took the jerky, regarded it for a moment, then started stuffing his face with it.

  "Whoa!" Joe said, nearly grabbing the boy's arm to keep him from wolfing down the gift. "Slow down. You'll make yourself sick eating fast like that."

  "I'm already sick," Jamie pointed out. "When did they decide to start feedin' me?"

  Joe stared at the boy until finally their eyes met. "They haven't. I'm doing this on my own."

  Jamie gazed at him severely. "You're gonna get your ass whipped for this."

  "Probably. But I don't care. It ain't right to be starving you like this. And then making you talk to that thing. . . ." Joe froze then, wondering if he should have mentioned it. Instead of the fear he expected to see in the boy's face, he only saw blank incomprehension. He either doesn't remember, or he's too tired to think straight now, Joe speculated.

  Jamie was paying attention to other things. "Is that fire?" he inquired innocently as he gnawed on the stick of jerky.

  "It's . . ." Joe said, momentarily confused. That was a fire back there, and I wasn't even paying attention. I was concentrating too damned hard on finding Jamie. If the place is on fire, then maybe I should get him out of here, he thought stupidly.

  Joe looked up and saw the thin film of smoke licking across the ceiling. He sniffed and smelled the smoke for the first time. But it wasn't like any smoke he'd smelled before; this stench was laden with plastic and synthetic smells, sort of like when an alternator on a car is about to go out, or when a fuse box overloads.

  That's easy. It's an electrical fire, he thought, frowning. This didn't make the situation easier to handle.

  This room is no longer safe, he declared. I'm taking him out now and to hell with the consequences! After all, this was what he wanted to do all along.

  "Come on, buckaroo," Joe said, scooping him up in his arms. He felt the difference in the boy's weight immediately; ten, maybe twenty pounds. "We're getting out of here."

  "Okay," the boy replied calmly. "Got any more jerky?"

  "Not with me," Joe said. "Too much food will make you sick right now. Hang loose for a while." He remembered reading about concentration camps in Nazi Germany, and the prisoners who, once liberated by the Allies, ate themselves to death. He wondered about this when he saw Jamie, but didn't think he was that far gone. A little food. No more. At least until I figure out what kind of condition he's in.

  And what I'm doing here, and how I'm going to get him out, and what I do then.

  Joe carried him out of the isolation room with a distinct feeling that he was being watched. Paranoia, he decided. The power is off. The cameras are out. There's not enough light in here to see by if they weren't.

  The commotion at the end of the hall was still in progress, but now seemed farther away. From the melee he was able to pick Luke's voice out, an insistent, frantic wail trying in vain to seize control of the situation.

  What is going on up there? Joe wondered, becoming a little more interested in the emergency Luke and Billybob ran off to tend to. Soon I may just find out. Those two, they'll be back soon. I need to make this look innocent if they find me. No, when they find me. There's no way out of this place, even if I did try to make a run for it. This last thought disturbed—and intrigued—him more than he thought it should. Have I completely lost my mind?

  He took Jamie to another wing of storage units, where the lighting was still next to nonexistent. He found tall stacks of boxes piled on pallets, their contents unknown. Probably food, Joe thought. But no more for Jamie. It could kill him. They were well hidden here, and in the darkness he felt like it would be a less likely place for Luke to find them. Luke is afraid of the dark. I remember that. Could be why he left Jamie and ran for the fire. The fire has light. Had they gone further they would have walked into a highly traveled area; somewhere around here Joe remembered an access tunnel that would take them to the garage, where he could take a truck and maybe even crash the gate. . . .

  There I go again. Thinking crazy thoughts. They'd shoot me and Jamie both, if I tried to get away. We'd be so shot full of holes there wouldn't be anything left.

  "Try to stand up," Joe said, setting the child down on his feet. "How do you feel?"

  "Sleepy," Jamie said, yawning. "But I don't wanna go to sleep." He looked up at Joe with brown, questioning eyes. "What's going on, Joe?" he asked. "Why won't they let me eat?"

  Joe sat down on a bare pallet, which rocked a little as his weight settled down on it. Now they were on eye level, making it more difficult for Joe to talk to the boy. He wanted to shrink into a little ball now, the responsibility for this predicament pressing a little more firmly on his shoulders.

  "I'm a little confused right now," Joe admitted. Jamie's look became puzzled. "I don't know what they're trying to prove back there, making you talk to that thing like that, but it ain't right and it's not good for you. There are some things that just aren't meant to be messed with, and that thing that took control of you tonight is one of them." Jesus, Joe thought. Where are these words coming from? He listened to his mouth rattle on, uncertain if it was him who was talking, or someone, or something, else.

  "But I can tell you this," Joe continued. "It's not right what they're doing. And I'm partway to blame for it. I don't know if I can get you out of here now, but I will someday. I promise you that."

  Jamie gazed at him solemnly, his lower lip curling out into a pout. Then the expression changed to anger. Eyebrows arched, his forehead wrinkled.

  "Joe, where is my momma?"

  Joe tried to gaze directly into his eyes, but his look wavered and glanced away. He doesn't know what's up and what's down anymore. Everyone in authority has been feeding him lies, and now he knows it. He's looking to me for the answers. I've got to tell him the truth, or he'll never trust me again. And if he doesn't trust me, he doesn't have a chance in this place.

  "I don't know where your mother is," Joe said slowly. After saying it, it was a little easier to look up. "I never did. Look. The grownups around here, they haven't been telling you the truth."

  Joe had expected tears; he got a dull resignation. "I guess that means she's not coming here. To the vacation place."

  He uttered the sentence with such a total lack of emotion that Joe shivered a little. It's almost like that thing was talking through him again. Like maybe a little bit of it stayed behind or managed to burn out some of his emotions. Or else that he's so used to disappointment that he doesn't care anymore.

  "That's right, Jamie," he said with effort. "She probably doesn't even know where you are." He looked up. "You stay here a second." Joe got up and peered out of the storage room, down the corridor. The sounds that echoed through the corridor indicated that the fire was gone, but that other things were keeping the guards busy. We're safe for a little while longer, he decided. Better make the best use of this time I can. After this it will be impossible to get close to Jamie again. When he returned, he continued. "Your mother didn't know you were being brought here. Your daddy, you see, he took you away from your school so she wouldn't know, and brought
you here so that you could be with him."

  Jamie looked confused. Why shouldn't he be? Joe thought, resisting an urge to pull his own hair out. God, I hope I'm going about this right. This had better not be causing more damage than good.

  "But why?" was the logical response.

  A simple question with a damned difficult answer. It's too late to back out now, I'm already ass deep in this one.

  "Your ma and pa stopped getting along together. You're smart, even you could see that." Meekly, Jamie nodded. "And well, he heard about the Chosen Ones and started to come to meetings. And before long he was a believer, and a follower, of Brother Joseph."

  "Your daddy."

  Joe winced. You could have gone all night without saying that, he thought, cringing inwardly. That's one thing I would really like to forget right now.

  "Yeah. My daddy," Joe said. It felt like he was admitting to a crime against humanity. "He needed someone who could talk to the Holy Fire. Someone young, and smart, like you. Do you remember the Holy Fire?"

  "I remember," he said. If the memory was frightening, the boy concealed it well. "But it was okay. I had a friend to help me out."

  "Good, that's good," Joe said condescendingly. I had an imaginary friend, too, a funny fox. Sometimes, he was the only one I had to talk to, when one of Dad's flunkies wasn't around. "When you're hungry, you can talk to the Holy Fire better. That's why Brother Joseph is doing this. He wants to know things from the Holy Fire, things that will help the Chosen Ones."

  He had nearly said, "help us out," but that didn't feel right. He didn't really feel like a Chosen One anymore. If I'm not a Chosen One, then who am I? came the thought, but he shelved it for later consideration.

  "You don't understand, do you?" he sighed, when Jamie didn't react with anything but acceptance.

  But Jamie shook his head. "Oh, I understand," he said matter-of-factly. "Sarah explained everything to me."

  Joe felt the room get fifteen degrees colder. Did he say—Sarah?

  He stared at the little boy, unsure what he should say, or what he could say; it didn't help to ask him again. He heard the name right the first time. He said Sarah. But it can't be.

  "She's dead," Jamie supplied, with his head cocked to one side as if he was listening to two conversations at once. "She says not to worry, she doesn't blame you for what happened. But she would like to know why you didn't do anything to stop him. She says you were standing right there. When he did it."

  "I—" Joe said, but the sound came out a weak gurgle, the kind of sound someone would make when strangling. Like the sound she made. Oh God, this can't be happening! Is he talking to spirits? Spirits that can read my mind? Is this Satan's work?

  He felt the walls of his father's religion closing around him, warding off the fear of the unknown that this conversation was invoking. I can't go back to those beliefs, he wanted to scream. It's all nonsense, I've already decided that, or why else would I go against him, take Jamie out of his prison and feed him. But this, with Sarah, this is what the demons do. It's what the devil does! What else do I have to protect myself with, besides the Church?

  But—once again, his father had lied.

  He told me she went to heaven!

  She couldn't have, not if she was talking to Jamie—

  Or was she an angel, some kind of sword-wielding, avenging angel, cutting down anyone who had anything to do with her death?

  Jamie continued the conversation, like he was on one end of a spiritual telephone. "Sarah says that the forces of darkness are what your daddy attracts, not what she is. She also says you aren't in danger. At first she was mad at me for telling you about her, but now she says it will help all of us, letting you know she's still around. You can help me, she says." For the first time, Jamie showed some spark of interest. "How can you help me?" he demanded.

  Joe had fallen off the pallet and was now on his knees, praying. He wasn't even certain what he was saying, but he hoped the emotion of what he was feeling would convey his message.

  Jamie peered down at him. "Joe, whatcha doin' down there? You gettin' sick?"

  "He's going to be a lot worse off than that," a loud, booming voice shouted from somewhere behind him. Joe jumped up and turned around suddenly, habitually reaching for his sidearm, a .44 that wasn't there.

  Luke. Oh good God.

  From the darkness came the snick, snick of a shell being pumped into a shotgun. Another, softer snick betrayed the presence of a pistol.

  "I suggest that if you've rearmed yourself to drop it. But I don't think you have. You're not that smart."

  The large man's weight shifted the pallet as he stepped on one of the bare wooden platforms. The pallet creaked, protesting loudly. More footsteps; one set no doubt belonging to Billybob. A third person shined a bright spot in Joe's face, panned back and forth between him and Jamie.

  "Yep. That's them. They're both here," Billybob said. It was the first coherent sentence Joe had heard the man utter.

  "What the hell did you think you were trying to do?" Luke said, taking a few steps forward. The spotlight continued to shine, silhouetting the huge man. "How far did you think you were going to go with him?"

  Joe glanced over at Jamie, who had—thank God—eaten everything he had given him. If I play my cards right, I can get out of this one untouched. If.

  "Not sure what you mean, Luke," Joe replied. "I was just getting the boy clear of the fire. That is what you abandoned your post to go tend to, isn't it?"

  Luke's expression wavered slightly. A flicker of concession passed over his face and then was gone.

  "Guess that's what it was," Billybob said. "Wasn't sure."

  "Shut up!" Luke screamed. His intensity startled Joe. "What I want to know is what you were planning to do with this kid?"

  Joe assumed an expression of surprise. "I wasn't planning anything. What I did was take him to safety. It was pretty clear to me that he was in danger, and that you left him in danger."

  "Enough of this crap," Luke said, cutting him off. "Billybob, you and Jimmy take the kid back to his room. I'll deal with Joe."

  "But Luke—"

  "But nothing. No arguments," he replied, a little softer.

  Joe didn't like this one bit. It began to feel like a setup, and when he looked around at his surroundings, he had a creepy feeling he might not walk out of there alive. This is the kind of place where people die, he thought, trying hard not to let his fear show through.

  Billybob hesitated, something Joe had never seen him do in Luke's presence. Luke's eyebrow raised in response.

  "I said now," he said, quietly.

  "You're not going to, are you?" Billybob asked, somewhat fearfully.

  Joe could tell he was getting impatient. "Just take the kid back to the room now," Luke ordered. "I'll see about you later."

  That last statement had an ominous feel to it, and Billybob took the boy by the hand and led him away out of the darkness of the storage room. Joe couldn't see Luke's expression very well, as the light from the hallway emergency light came in behind him. Jimmy followed Billybob out, casting a glance behind him that turned his blood to ice.

  He's going to kill me, Joe thought. The realization left him feeling vaguely calm, in a detached sort of way. The fear he would have normally expected just wasn't there. He's going to kill me, and it's not going to make any difference. He'll make up some story about how I tried to take the gun away from him.

  "You've gotten awfully uppity lately. Who do you think you are, anyway? Seems like you think you're better than me these days." Luke shifted his immense weight, cradling the shotgun carefully. The barrel never wavered.

  "I know I'm not better than you," Joe pleaded, trying hard not to grovel. "Its just, things are happening so fast around here. The drugs and all, seems like something's going on there all the time."

  "Why don't we just talk about that," Luke said. "Why don't you help with the deliveries? Distribution? You think you're a prince or somethin'?"

 
"I'm just busy with the Junior Guard," Joe lied. "You know that's what Brother Joseph wants me in. There's no time for nothing else." If I keep him talking, maybe I can get out of this.

  Luke sneered. "I've been waiting for you to screw up for a long time. I knew you were trouble a long time ago. Knew you would never follow orders from your superiors. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

  He knew all too well. "I think so," he replied, not wanting to get specific. What is he leading up to?

  "The Chosen Ones will be purified by this," Luke said, raising the shotgun to shoulder level, and taking careful aim at Joe's midsection. "You just sit still, it'll be over with before you . . ."

  At that moment the power returned, at least partially, to the sector. Fluorescent lights flickered on overhead as something went wuuummmmph in the distance.

  "Shit," Luke whispered, looking around him furtively.

  Above, located behind Luke, a remote camera whirred back to life. It panned back and forth, its red LED light blinking. Luke spotted it at the same time Joe did and dropped the shotgun to his side.

  "There's someone watching us," Joe said. "If you killed me now there'd be witnesses."

  "I wasn't going to kill nobody," he said, forcing a smile. "Where'd you get that idea anyway, son?"

  "Sure looked that way to me," Joe said.

  "What's going to happen now," Luke said, starting for the entrance of the storeroom, "is this. I'm going to report to your father, see, about how you tried to kidnap Jamie and take him out of our little sanctuary here, into Pawnee. The whole story. I'll just let you worry about that."

  Joe shrugged. "That's fine with me," he said, not sure where his cockiness was coming from. "But I'll tell you one thing. And I'll let you worry about this: my father is going to find out about what you tried to do to me when I was a kid. Do you remember? Or should I refresh your memory?"

  Luke froze in his tracks. "What are you talking about, boy?"

  "You know exactly what I'm talking about. He might understand you fooling around with little girls, but little boys? And his son?"