by Harvey Click
“You’ve changed so much,” he said.
“That happens.”
“I guess Dexter’s your boyfriend or . . . or . . .”
“That’s right.”
“He looks like a nice man,” Garrick said. He sniffed his handful of leaves, face hidden with hair. “I . . . I . . . I’m not . . .”
“Good.”
“Just wanted to talk,” he said. “Maybe you’d like to sit down?”
“No.”
“Father tells me you had a pretty weird childhood,” he said. “So did I. Both of my parents are Longevitals.”
“Lucky for you,” she said. “Both of mine are dead.”
“Not so lucky,” he said. “I’ve been looking through microscopes all my life, and I’ve never found a cure.”
“A cure for what?” she asked.
“For what I am.”
He pulled his hair away from his strange face. “Look at me,” he said. “My body’s all fucked up. The Longevital treatment causes changes at the genetic level. Mate two Longevitals, and their child is a bundle of weird chromosomes. Nobody wants to be like me, but a lot of people would like to get their hands on me.”
His stammer had stopped, but he was speaking so quietly that Mary could scarcely hear him.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Maybe Father told you, some of the ingredients necessary for Longevity treatment are extinct. There are some aging Longevitals out there who believe they can synthesize the chemicals they need if they carve out my thyroid and thymus and pituitary glands. My research shows they’re wrong, but they don’t seem to know that. So I’ve been hiding all my life. First my mother kept me, but then she started to change . . .”
Garrick stared at a tree; his eyes hadn’t met Mary’s since he’d sat down.
“If I tell you something, will you promise never to tell Father?” he asked.
“Go ahead.”
“Mother’s been hiding from him since I was born,” he said. “She only visits him as a projection. He won’t admit it, but he’s still in love with her. He thinks she hides because she’s lost interest in him, but that’s not the reason. Carrying me caused her metabolism to change. She says I sucked her Longevity out through the umbilical cord. She started aging quickly, and she didn’t want him to see her beauty fade. Pretty soon she didn’t even want me to see her, so on my sixth birthday she sent me away to Father. I’m the cause of all her problems, but for some reason she still seems to love me. I’m not allowed to see her though, except on the screen. I don’t even know where she lives. I see my father only when he needs me. Other than that, I don’t see anyone.”
“Must be hard,” Mary said. She sat down.
“So I’ve spent my whole life looking for ways to keep myself alive,” he said. “I’ve pretty much given up hope for a cure. If you’re bothered by what I do to animals, you have to consider . . . I mean, at least I don’t eat them, like most people do. They’re my best friends, you know. I’ve never had any other friends. I . . . I . . .”
He stared at the ground, hair hiding his face.
“Longevity is a biologic process something like cancer,” he said. “Cells multiply more rapidly than normal to replace aging or injured ones. But in my case, the growth is out of control. My whole body is collapsing and altering and getting more fucked up every day. I dose myself with chemo-therapy to slow down the metastasis. I’m just one big walking tumor, except half the time I’m bed-ridden and can hardly walk. I . . . I . . . I’m disgusting.”
“Don’t say that,” Mary said. She reached over and touched his hand. It felt feverish, and he pulled it away.
“Whatever you do, don’t tell Father what I said. It would get back to Mother, and she almost invited me to see her today. That would be something. That would really be something.” He stared at a tree. “She’d be angry if she found out, and then I’d never get to see her.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“She says she looks awful now,” he said. “Maybe she looks even worse than I do.”
“You don’t look so bad, Garrick.”
“No?” He raised his head, met her eyes at last, and pulled his hair back.
And then he removed his face.
Mary tried to watch, but the raw blistered meat that had been hidden by the mask was too horrible to look at.
***
Garrick had put his mask back on and was adjusting it when they heard Dexter shouting at them to come to the house. He was still pressing loose latex against his face when they reached the living room and Grimes turned on him with eyes like silver knives.
“They found your address,” he said. “We have to leave.”
Garrick’s tongue raced around, licking his tiny teeth.
“Those damned cookies you baked three weeks ago,” Grimes said. “Remember? You stupidly wrapped some in a newspaper with your address plastered on the front like a calling card.”
“I . . . I . . .”
The rubber covering his right cheek sagged. Mary saw Dexter staring at the loose mask and hoped he would look away. He did. He picked up a pair of listening shells from the floor.
“You were careless, that’s what you’re trying to say,” Grimes said. “I’ve warned you many times.”
“I . . . I . . . baked them for you.”
“I don’t care for cookies,” Grimes said. “Get the things you need, and let’s go.”
“My animals,” Garrick said. “My notes, my medicine, all my things . . .”
“Forget your animals. We’ll have to torch the house.”
“But . . . but . . .”
Grimes gave him a humorless grin. “That’s the price of carelessness—no? They’ll find hair and dirty clothes to scent their tracking stones. They’ll find letters with addresses and a thousand other clues to tell them everything there is to know about us. Not to mention the worms crawling around everywhere.”
“But . . . but . . .” Garrick’s tongue squirmed. “But all my animals . . .”
“There’s no time to snivel about it now,” Grimes said. “I lost my house too, and you don’t see me sniveling. Contact your mother and let’s get moving. We leave in twenty minutes.”
Garrick touched his ruby ring against the projection ruby, and a high-pitched whine made the window panes shake. He lurched out of the room and up the stairs before Letha’s image appeared on the screen. She wasn’t wearing anything fancy this time, just a bathrobe that she was still trying to tie.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“They found our address,” Grimes said. “Garrick was careless.”
“Don’t blame him, this is your doing,” she said. “I’ll give you directions, but if you lead the Lost Ones to me you won’t need to worry about them killing you because I’ll do it myself.”
Grimes smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A Beretta pistol landed in Mary’s lap as Garrick’s van skidded around a wet curve of a narrow back road somewhere in West Virginia. She was sitting on a crate because there was no back seat. The rear of the van was filled with boxes, weapons, cages of frightened animals, and whatever other belongings Garrick could jam in during the few minutes Grimes had allowed him.
“Slow down, Goddammit,” she shouted. “I’m not in the mood to get killed tonight.”
“She’s right,” Dexter said. “It’s slippery and these cliffs are steep.” He sat in the passenger’s seat, scanning the dark drizzle for trouble.
Garrick sent the van lurching into another sharp curve. He didn’t seem to be in a talking mood tonight. Mary thought he was fleeing more than the Lost Ones; she could still see his log house blazing.
“Don’t worry,” Grimes said. “Garrick’s an excellent driver.” He was sitting on the floor across from Mary, wearing listening shells and a dreamy expression. He was supposed to be watching for trouble too, but his mind was obviously elsewhere. He raised his voice and said, “Don’t forget to turn after Copperhead Creek.
Have we come to it yet?”
Garrick didn’t answer.
“He’ll get us there,” Grimes said. “He wants to see his mother.” He smiled benignly at the ceiling while a book flew past his face. “It’s been thirty-five years since I’ve seen her,” he said. “I wonder if she has aged. I certainly have, I’m showing my years. My treatment is wearing off, and I’m afraid I wasn’t very young the first time I took it. I daresay that’s why she hasn’t wanted to see me. It’s no secret she likes younger men.”
Mary ignored him. She didn’t like the way he had blamed Garrick for the address on the newspaper. She didn’t like the way he’d doused the animals in the lab with kerosene and had poured it onto the chairs Garrick had made. She didn’t like the way he’d thrown the match. Maybe it was necessary to burn the place, but it wasn’t necessary to play the righteous schoolmaster teaching a lesson to a bad little boy.
“She stopped seeing me shortly after Garrick was born, and I suppose I’ve always blamed him,” Grimes said. “But who can understand women? They’re puzzles that change their rules.”
Mary wished he would shut up and concentrate on his listening shells. She got up to look out the windshield. The headlights glimmered vaguely in the foggy rain as the van hurtled down a hill.
“Someday you must go to Damascus, my dear,” he said. “Like the apostle Paul.”
“Right now I’d settle for a flophouse in Parkersburg,” she said.
“Some claim it’s the oldest city in the world,” he said. “The first time I was there was many years ago, when the French still controlled Syria. I’d heard news of an invaluable book that once belonged to the Knights Templar. It was said to be hidden in the catacombs beneath an ancient church. That’s where I met her, in Damascus. She called herself Helen at the time.”
“I’m in no mood for a bedtime story,” Mary said.
“Every detail is engraved in my memory,” Grimes said. “Minarets and mosques and the cries of street merchants, tombs and fountains and tapestries. Most of all, the perfume she wore. It was her own concoction, a hypnotic courting potion like nothing you’ve ever smelled. The nights were literally enchanted, owing to the spells we spun to woo and delude each other. After a month in Damascus, I still hadn’t found the book but I discovered that someone was attempting to kill me. I laid a trap for my adversary and captured Letha. She too was searching for the book, and wanted to eliminate her competition.” He chuckled. “It was a pleasant game.”
Mary checked the Beretta to make sure a round was chambered and tucked it into her jeans. “Maybe you oughta be listening to those shells,” she said.
“They give me a headache. We must be nearly there.” Grimes raised his voice and said, “Have we come to Copperhead Creek yet?”
“Five minutes ago,” Dexter said.
“What about the turn?”
“We turned.”
Grimes smiled. “You see? I told you Garrick’s a good driver. He wants to see his mommy. As for the book, I never found it. While Letha and I were sparring, I learned that a Sufi adept named Ibn al-Hayyan had quietly absconded to Cairo with the treasure, so I slipped away to find him. I never did, but a year later I found Letha in Cypress, and the nights grew enchanted again. That time it was she who slipped away, and so it went for many years. Fate threw us together in the most unlikely places, and then one of us would disappear in the night only to discover that fate wouldn’t allow us to break the bond. After Garrick was born, Letha slipped away for thirty-five years, but tonight fate brings us together again.”
Grimes wasn’t one to prattle on like this. He seemed to be working an act on Mary, and she wondered why.
“There’s an amusing sequel to the story of the book,” he said. “Years later, I learned that the mysterious Ibn al-Hayyan never existed. Letha had planted the rumor to lure me away from Damascus. While I chased a phantom in Cairo, she stole the book herself.” He chuckled, his sliver tooth glimmering in the drizzly darkness. “Women,” he said. “They’re a race apart—no?”
“You don’t fool me with these dopey-ass love stories,” Mary said. “You’re hiding something.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Letha’s a nasty bitch, and I bet you know some other good reasons why I shouldn’t trust her.”
“Well, she’s a woman, and that’s a good reason,” he said. “She’s frightened, and that’s another reason. But inside her heart there’s something worth trusting.”
“What’s she afraid of?”
“Getting old, I daresay. Aren’t you?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll live that long,” Mary said.
“You paying attention with those shells?” Dexter yelled from the front.
“Yes,” Grimes said. “Why?”
“I saw a car hidden in the trees back there, and now I see headlights behind us.”
Mary peered through the rear window. A pair of headlights glowed in the drizzle and vanished behind a bend.
“You’re right,” Grimes said. “I see two cars following us . . . three men in one and four in the other. They’re wearing camouflage clothes. I see weapons . . .”
“See anything up ahead?” Dexter asked. “Maybe what they’ll do, they’ll have another car cut us off in front.”
Grimes’ eyes rolled up as he concentrated on the shells. “Can’t see anything in front,” he said. “So many dips and turns, a car could be hiding anywhere. They’re keeping their distance behind, maybe half a mile.”
Garrick slowed down after driving like a lunatic all this way. “Let’s just stop and shoot it out,” he said. “I’m ready.” His voice had a feverish edge.
“Fuck that,” Mary said. “Step on it.”
“We’re almost there,” Grimes said. “I think I see Pallas a few miles ahead.”
Garrick touched the brake and crept around the next curve.
“Come on!” Mary yelled. “Get this damn thing moving.”
“Garrick, you want the shotgun or a rifle?” Grimes asked.
“I . . . I . . .”
Grimes slid an SKS up between the seats. “There’s one more rifle,” he said. “Who wants it?”
“I’m okay,” Dexter said. He had a pistol in hand.
“Me too,” Mary said. “Come on, Garrick, get this fucking crate moving.”
“Start shooting if they cut us off in front,” Grimes said. He grabbed the Mossberg and pumped a shell into the chamber. “Garrick, can’t you drive any faster? What are you doing, are you having one of your fits up there?”
He didn’t answer. The van was barely moving.
“Good God,” Grimes said. “He’s having one of his damned seizures.”
The van bumped against the steep hill on the left side of the road while Dexter grappled with Garrick. “Just hold the wheel while I get him out of the way,” he said.
Mary leaned over the seat and grabbed the wheel, but Garrick’s body was shaking violently and his foot hit the accelerator. The van shot toward the ravine at the right side of the road, and cages of shrieking animals fell. Dexter wrenched him onto the floor and scrambled into the driver’s seat while Mary tried to steer.
Garrick stopped shaking but looked barely conscious. Grimes, leaning awkwardly over the console, helped him up into the passenger’s seat.
“Damn you,” he said. “You forgot your medicine—no? I’ve warned you many times.”
“He gonna be okay?” Mary asked.
“He’ll live unless we all get killed,” Grimes said. He sat down and adjusted his listening shells. “They’re still keeping their distance,” he said. “They must be afraid of us.”
“Bullshit,” Mary said. “They probably want us to lead them to your girlfriend’s place. She’s not gonna be happy.”
“Pallas,” Dexter said. “There’s the sign.”
A few small houses and some house trailers crouched in the darkness. Dogs were barking.
“Looks like a fucking hillbilly dump,” Mary said.
“No wonder I’ve been unable to locate Letha,” Grimes said. “Look, there’s the gas station.”
One gas pump stood in front of a red wooden building shaped like a small barn. The place looked closed, but a light glowed in the front window. Dexter pulled onto the muddy dirt lot and stopped. A wooden shutter creaked open above the door, in the upper story or loft, and a spotlight switched on and aimed its beam at the van. Grimes listened to his shells while Garrick moaned in his sleep.
“This sucks,” Mary said. “You see anything in there?”
“No, it’s shielded like a safe,” Grimes said.
The spotlight stared at them through the drizzle. “Give us the shibboleth,” a tinny voice called through a loudspeaker.
Grimes slid the side door open a few inches and yelled, “All things bend into a straight line.”
“Come out one at a time unarmed,” the tinny voice said.
“We need to keep our guns. We’re being followed.”
“Athena knows that,” the voice said. “She’s been watching the cars. Come out one at a time unarmed, and hurry up.”
“This is weird,” Mary said. “Let’s get outta here right now.”
Grimes smiled uneasily. “Calm down,” he said. “This has Letha’s sense of humor written all over it. Apparently she has set herself up here as a Greek goddess. I should have guessed.”
He put down his shotgun and got out. “My son’s sick,” he yelled. “I’ll have to help him out of the truck.”
“Go ahead, but lose the wand,” the voice said. “Athena says you could take out the whole town with it.”
Grimes tossed his walking stick into the van. He opened the front door, woke Garrick, and helped him out. Mary slid the rear door shut and scrambled up front to slam that door. She watched them slosh through the mud to the building.
“Let’s scram,” she said. “¡Vámonos!”
“Seven of them in those cars, two of us,” Dexter said. “There may be more cars up ahead.”
“Drop your weapons and come out of the truck now,” the tinny loudspeaker said.
“We want to bring our guns,” Dexter shouted out the window.
“The goddess says no. You’ll be safe in here without them.”