The Terminals

by Royce Scott Buckingham

  “Can I come in?” he asked. It was lame, but it was better than Sorry, I was trying to get a look at you in your underwear since I missed my chance on the boat.

  “Free country,” she said. “At least, I think it is.”

  He stepped inside. One bunk was made, its sheets tucked so square and tight that the mattress looked like an uncomfortable white box. Gwen’s work. The other bunk was mussed, its sheets crumpled and bunched at one end, like an angrily discarded Dear John letter. Zara’s. Cam had to wonder what sort of wild midnight thrashing could so thoroughly ravage them. The rest of the place was immaculate. Zara had not had the opportunity to disorganize it yet, it seemed.

  “So … I haven’t been in your condo before,” Cam said. “It’s nice.”

  “Why are you here, Wingman? Don’t trust me? Worried I’m going to rat out your ugly girlfriend?”

  “I know you won’t,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t. He watched for a hint of her intention, but there was nothing except an uncomfortable silence. He glanced at the empty bunk. “Gwen was your roommate. I just wanted to say…”

  “No need. We weren’t exactly close.”

  “And I’m sorry about what happened on the boat,” he blurted out. “Between you and me, I mean. I do think you’re a very pretty woman.”

  Zara cocked her head. “No, you think I’m a tramp. Well FYI, sport: I’m not the person I was before I came here. None of us are.”

  “I know.”

  “You don’t know. You don’t know a thing about me.”

  She was almost shouting. It annoyed him.

  “Okay,” he snapped back, “what don’t I know? That you never got the chance to climb Mount Everest? Or that you were going to try out for the Olympic kickboxing team? Congratulations, you’re extreme, harsh, and intimidating.”

  “You don’t know that I loved a boy once.”

  The word “love” sounded so strange on her full, salacious lips that Cam fell silent. He sat down. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to let her know it was okay to continue.

  She spoke without looking at Cam. “He was my best friend. He and Kate. We were a trio, really. Grew up on the same street in the same small town. We did everything together. I started to like him in high school, and by college I was full-on into him. But we never hooked up—I thought that might ruin it. He was one of those nice-guy types, and I imagined us married someday, buying dishes and decorating a house and crap. Cheesy, huh?

  “Then one day Kate comes to me. She tells me he’s in love with me. For a moment I was in heaven. Then she got this incredibly sad look on her face. She said I was prettier than her, that I was more exciting, that I would have my choice of college boys. I didn’t know where she was going with it until she suddenly asked me if I would walk away from him. He was her soul mate, she said. She would never meet another guy, and he would never be with her if I was available. She cried and declared me her best friend forever. Cheesy again, eh? But I felt bad for her. Sympathetic. Even flattered. In the end, I did it. I told him I didn’t see him as a boyfriend, just as a friend—you know the drill.”

  “Yeah … I get that.”

  “To seal the deal I said, ‘and I’m doing an older guy.’ I actually said that.”

  “Oh no … you didn’t. That kills love-struck teenage boys, you know?”

  “I know. And I wasn’t even actually doing anyone. I deliberately caused him pain. I crushed him. I crushed myself.” She looked away.

  “But you’re beautiful. I’m sure you met lots of boys in college, like this Kate girl said.”

  “Yep. Lots of jerks. Had my choice of them.” She coughed up a laugh, but there was pain there—a bad experience. Maybe several.

  Cam tried to move her past the memory. “What happened to Kate and, uh, the guy?”

  “They’re engaged. Ridiculously happy. She preferred that I didn’t hang out with him anymore, since they were together. So I didn’t see her much either after that. Now she’s with him studying abroad in Italy. And I’m here with a fatal tumor and an ex–soccer player who thinks I’m a loveless slut.”

  “I’m sorry.” Cam didn’t know what else to say, but he said something else anyway. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “If you do, I’ll beat your ass.” Zara’s words were firm, but she said them with damp eyes.

  Cam reached out to her, offering a hug, but she pushed him away.

  “No. You had your chance.”

  * * *

  Wally sat in the lagoon up to his chest watching the blue and red streaks in the clear water. He stared, focused, and didn’t look up, even when Cam arrived at the pool’s edge.

  “You’re always so overstimulated,” Cam said. “It’s strange to see you relaxing.”

  Wally smirked. His hand shot into the water like lightning and came up dripping with a small wriggling fish clenched in it. Wally popped the fish into his mouth and gulped it down.

  Cam shook his head. “Like I said, strange. What did Ward ask you in there?”

  “Nothin’. He just wanted to know if I had any questions.”

  “He didn’t quiz you?”

  “Not really.”

  “Did he say anything?”

  “Said I saved all your tails with my flare drops.” Wally tapped the surface of the water above the gathering school of fish with his hand, sending silver, green, and yellow flashes in all directions. “Then he said how proud he was of me. Haven’t heard that in a while.”

  “So what did you ask him?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Don’t you wonder about some of this stuff?”

  “Why mess with a good thing?”

  Cam didn’t push it. He left Wally sitting in the calm pool and headed for the bunker. It was his turn to debrief with Ward. A lot had happened in the past twenty-four hours, and he fully intended to ask some questions.

  Ward was seated in the lounge, an artificially comfortable alternative to the briefing room. Two hammocks hung in the corners, and padded chairs were scattered about, intentionally askew. Ward held no gear or manuals. The backpack of money was gone, already spirited away.

  “Hey, Cam,” he said in greeting. “Come on in. How are you holding up?”

  Cam decided that somebody who preceded him must have gotten upset. Probably Jules. “I’m fine,” Cam said. “Rested. What’s the purpose of this meeting?”

  “I just wanted to provide you with a sounding board in case you want to talk about anything. Maybe things you don’t want to discuss with your teammates. Or if you want to ask any questions. By all reports you had quite an extreme experience.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Anything bothering you?”

  “No. Why? Should there be?” Cam spoke evenly, but he could feel his temper rising. He didn’t know exactly why, and he couldn’t stop it.

  “Okay, I’m sensing some tension now.”

  “People died, man! You sense that?”

  “Every day. All over the world.”

  “You still say this is all for good?”

  “The reason you’re here is bad. But what you’re doing is good,” he said decisively and promptly. “You’re a hero, Cam. Very few people get to live a life where, at its end, they know they’ve made the world a better place. It’s supposed to feel positive. Let it.”

  “At our medical exam they didn’t review my condition at all.”

  “You’ve already accepted that you’re dying. It’s a basic tenet of our philosophy.”

  “I’m not showing any symptoms. What if I’m recovering?”

  “Cam, if they chose you, you’re not going to recover.”

  Cam sighed. Ward had a pithy answer for everything. He was like the bastard offspring of a therapist and a public relations official.

  “Were those doctors working with you?” Cam said suddenly.

  Ward’s eyebrow twitched, and Cam could see his trainer thinking. No clever saying for that, eh?

  “Of course the organization has doctors
working for it, Cam,” Ward said at length. “That’s how they evaluated you, helped you disappear, and continue to care for you. What’s your concern?”

  “We weren’t told.”

  “You’re not told a lot of things. That doesn’t change your purpose here.”

  “To save this organization’s own employees.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “In this case, yes.”

  “Who were pretending to work for a global charity.”

  “We are a global charity. Cam, you know this has to be a clandestine operation. We have secrets.”

  “But you’re assuring me it’s all for the good of mankind, right? Scout’s honor?”

  “How can saving the lives of many at the cost of a few be anything but good?”

  Cam thought, but he couldn’t come up with a rebuttal. He wondered if Ari could have.

  Ward laid a hand on his shoulder. “Scout’s honor.”

  CAM’S PLAYLIST

  20. DOWN TIME

  by Robo Dork

  21. PERFORMANCE ANXIETY

  by Crush

  22. HAMSTER WHEEL

  by The Fluffy Bunnies

  “Refresh, rehash, restock my stash.”

  Cam climbed the ladder and flopped onto his bunk. He’d been explicitly ordered to relax, feel good, and enjoy paradise for the time being. The breeze that blew through the condo felt good on his hot skin, which was still flush from his exchange with Ward, and the thin sheets were cool to the touch. He shoved his hands under his pillow to get it right for his head. Something crinkled at his touch. Paper. The note had not been hidden in the earbuds this time. Bolder by an increment.

  Cam sat up and looked for Ari. His roommate was at the desk below and couldn’t see up into the bunk. Cam slid the note out and cupped it against the pillow to examine it in secret. The message was longer this time.

  Glad you’re still alive. I’m looking for someone I can trust. Is it you? PS: Don’t drink the Kool-Aid.

  Cam went through the girls in his head again. Jules, Zara, Calli. It wasn’t Gwen—of that he could be certain. There were reasons why it could be any of the rest of them and reasons it shouldn’t be any of them. A mystery, Cam thought. He tucked the note away. It didn’t suggest a way to answer. Perhaps he needed to stuff his answer back under the pillow. But the note was annoyingly vague. “Trust” me for what?

  Cam leaned over the side of the bunk. “Hey, Ari, what does ‘don’t drink the Kool-Aid’ mean?”

  Ari pushed back from the desk and looked up at him. “Jim Jones.”

  “Jim Jones?”

  “Cult leader from the seventies. He got a thousand of his followers to commit mass suicide by drinking cyanide-laced Kool-Aid.”

  “Holy crap.”

  “Yeah. Even the children. Most awful thing ever. Why do you ask?”

  “Just heard it somewhere.”

  “That’s interesting, because it happened right here in South America.”

  Cam stuffed the note back under the pillow. The Kool-Aid was clearly the TS-9. It had to be. But who doesn’t want me to drink it and why? The thought occurred to him that the note writer could be a male.

  “Who was around our condo while I was talking to Ward?”

  “I dunno,” Ari said. “I was in the kitchen. Jules was making a chocolate cake.” He uttered a low hum to indicate the cake’s tastiness. “You know, I kinda like that she has a traditional side. Zara’s hot, but she wouldn’t be caught dead in the domestic fairy tale.”

  She might have, Cam thought. Once upon a time. But she’d dared to dream of a husband and a house, and she’d broken her own heart. Then she got sad, screwed, and sick, and the white picket fence fantasy went poof!

  “She might be more normal than we think,” Cam disagreed. “Maybe we just need to get to know her a little better.”

  “Good luck with that. Sounds like an excuse to try to get to know her butt a little better. You’re better off chasing Calliope, though you don’t know what you’re going to get with her from one day to the next.”

  “I’m not chasing anyone.”

  “Too bad. You’re a good-looking young man.” Ari chuckled. “And fast.”

  “You’re all nearly as fast as me. And stronger.”

  “Is that what you want? Artificial strength?”

  “I just want to keep up.”

  “You’re fast enough.” Ari jotted some notes on a road map he was studying.

  Cam glanced over his shoulder from atop the bunk. “I can’t believe I gave away a million dollars this morning.”

  Ari shrugged. “Monopoly money to us. Means nothing.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Changes your priorities when you realize your term here on earth is finite, eh?”

  “Ward said he was going to keep the money for the program. If we’re so righteous and good, why didn’t he send it back to the Koreans it was stolen from?”

  “It would probably go to some insurance company, and that isn’t going to make the world a better place.”

  “That simple?”

  “For me, yes. I’m quite fond of simple. I haven’t got time for complicated. And we only have a day to kick back.”

  “Before what?”

  “Mission number two. We leave tomorrow.” Ari held up the road map. “And I was promised a fast car.”

  * * *

  When tomorrow came, Pilot flew them several hours away and deposited them in an open field. Cam was surprised to find that they’d left the forest. A dirt road led out of the field, and trees had been cleared all around. A bus awaited them nearby. It was painted green and had a banner plastered across the side with words in what looked like Spanish to Cam.

  “What does that say?” Cam asked.

  Ari interpreted. “‘Friends of the Rainforest.’ We’re ecotourists.”

  “Lovely,” Zara grumbled.

  “I kind of like it,” Calliope said.

  Ari found the door open and ushered them aboard. “If any of you spoke Portuguese we wouldn’t have to be tourists.”

  Cam climbed in as Ari took the driver’s seat and located a hidden key. Cam whispered to his roommate on his way past, “Not exactly the insanely fast car we were promised, eh?”

  “Hey, it’s a nice bus.” Ari grabbed the intercom mic. “All passengers, take your seats, please,” he announced. “My name is Ari. I’ll be your tour guide today, and this excursion is under way!”

  The doors closed with a whoosh, and the bus lurched onto the dirt road. Rutty, packed dirt became gravel, and a right turn took them onto a paved surface.

  “We’re in civilization!” Jules exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

  Donnie cleared his throat to get their attention. “No contact with the outside world, except for what’s necessary for the mission.”

  Jules looked at Cam and rolled her eyes.

  “What is our mission?” Cam asked loudly. He addressed everyone, but directed it mostly to Ari.

  “Our mission is to attend a soccer match,” Ari said. He grinned and offered no further explanation. Demands from the team for further details and even mild threats from Zara couldn’t wrest any more info from him. “Hey, that’s most of what I know,” he claimed.

  After another half an hour, more cars began to appear on the road. The team chattered and pointed out the windows at passing sights. Fruit stands, vendors, and even small stores began to dot the road. Ari narrated, telling fictitious stories about the increasingly urban features whizzing by.

  “Coming up on our right is the fabled Sausage Man of East wherever we are. He cooks his famous chouriço right there in that rusty half barrel. And, on the left, you’ll see a fine example of the exotic local wildlife, a feral bos taurus, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “A what?” Jules asked.

  “A loose cow,” Cam said.

  Jules was up on her knees in her seat like a third grader on a school bus, her head snapping back and forth. The others had their faces pr
essed to the glass too, drinking in roadside art and advertisements alike, eager for both the greater and lesser offerings of humanity after months of isolation in the forest.

  “I’m going to get me one of those sausages,” Donnie said.

  “Me too,” Owen echoed.

  Even Cam felt a twinge of excitement. It felt like coming back to the real world from their surreal beachfront heaven. Soon they turned onto a road that was legitimately busy, and Ari quieted, concentrating on his driving. He’d obviously not trained behind the wheel of a ponderous bus, Cam decided, and the local drivers didn’t seem to pay much attention to lanes of travel.

  “Maybe this is a reward for the good job we did,” Jules said.

  Cam nodded. “Maybe.” But Ari had said it was their second mission. He looked to Calliope, who just shrugged.

  They were driving into the center of a city of some sort. Not a huge city, but not a mere village or town either.

  “That sign said ‘Amazon’ something,” Jules pointed out. “Are we in the Amazon?”

  “It doesn’t matter where we are,” Donnie said. “We’re not supposed to know.”

  “We’re going to know as soon as we step off the bus, genius,” Zara said. “Maybe before.” She pointed to a huge billboard that featured a soccer team.

  “That must be the region’s football club,” Ari said. “That’s who we’re going to see.”

  “Mystery solved, everyone!” Wally shouted from the back as another road sign appeared in the distance beyond Cam’s sight. “Macapá, Brazil, one hundred kilometers.”

  Ari unfolded a sheet of paper containing handwritten directions, which led them into the city. Once among the packed buildings, they wove south through surface streets in a light rain that hung in the air as though it never left. The team was looky-looing in all directions, including down on the small cars of the locals—every bit the tourists we’re playing, Cam thought. Then Jules gasped.

  “Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed. “Look-look! The river! Is that…?”

  The Amazon, Cam realized. The biggest river in the world. It could be nothing else. The vast expanse of water was not the ocean, for he could see a distant shore. Nor was it a lake—two children in a canoe drifted at surprising speed on its powerful current. They slid past in water the color of heavily creamed coffee, reminding Cam of children who paddled a boat through molten chocolate in a book he’d read in grade school.